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Book_ _ ¥.4 Q 

Copyright N°_ 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



























PAT. KENNY 






WAYSIDE 

THOUGHTS 

BY 

PAT KENNY 



“I awake and sigh 
And sleep to dream till day, 

Of the truth that gold can never buy 
Of the baubles that it may.” 

—POK 


“ Tis a base 

Abandonment of reason to resign 

The right of thought, our best and only place 
Of refuge, this at least shall still be mine.” 

—BYRON 





THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cop»ee Received 

OCT IS 1903 

OnrvwouT rwnrv 

&C*. 

X3fc*S«-*Xa Mo. 



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Copyrighted 1898 


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ACME PUB. CO., PRINTERS, 
MORGANTOWN, W. VA. 


1903 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


INTRODUCTION. 


When writing these Wayside Thoughts, I had 
no idea that they would appear in book form. 
I wrote them hastily and carelessly to while 
away time, and for the moment play, in 
a small* way, the part of a wise philosopher. 
A man’s mind is a world in itself, and he has to 
enjoy it as best he may; one hour gathering 
dead flowers of memory, another loitering by 
streams that sing to him of green fields far 
away, or picking up thoughts by the wayside, as 
a child would pick up enamelled shells washed 
in by the sea. I am now in my 74th year, back 
in my native Valley, among the playmates of 
my boyhood, recalling old pleasures, and weep¬ 
ing at times over the triumph of injustice. 

I do not claim for these thoughts of mine 
originality—mind has no originality—for the 
idea that reveals to one man some grand dis¬ 
covery had passed across the vision of another 
man’s soul hundreds of years before. I claim 
only the pleasure they have afforded me, and all 
the errors they possess. 



INTRODUCTION 


In every word lies a deep sincerity, and truth 
as far as I understand it. Whether they live 
or die, these Wayside Thoughts are mine, and 
I love them for their very pleasant companion¬ 
ship. P. K. 


CHAPTER I 

SIMPLICITY AND HOME. 

Simplicity in thought and word can best por¬ 
tray whatever is beautiful and sublime. It is a 
virtue in which the mind enjoys the utmost free¬ 
dom. Without it there can be no winsome 
grace—nothing to delight the eye or enrapture 
the heart. Oratory without it may have a pass¬ 
ing charm for the ear, but cannot touch the soul. 
It is in simplicity that poetry soars up among 
the starlit glories of night to the throne of God, 
or breathes the most tender strains of love, 
home and childhood. What so sweet and touch¬ 
ing as a mother’s song ? When the stars are 
adreaming, and the midnight winds are hushed 
by the angel of silence, do we not love to hear 
her low sweet voice singing to our listening 
souls? Is there not a pathos in the “untaught 
minstrelsy ” of lowly life that cannot be found 
elsewhere ? 

“It is not in the loftiest tree 
The sweetest song birds nestle.” 

Simplicity lies close to the bosom of nature 
and feels every throb of her loving heart. In 
ballad, poetry is at home, where there is no 



8 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


effort at display—nothing but the natural flow 
of feeling fresh and pure from the living fountain. 

The angels of heaven love to contemplate the 
simplicity of Jesus Christ. His birth at Beth¬ 
lehem was the prelude to the divine harmony 
that has been rolling and will forever roll through 
the aisles of time and eternity. The life at 
Nazareth must have been very simple and 
graceful, and there it was that the foundation 
of true Christian Civilization was laid. Sim¬ 
plicity characterized every thought, word and 
action of Christ. His philosophy, so childlike, 
was the perfection of all the gn ces, and so inex¬ 
haustible that all other systems of philosophy 
were, in everything relating to human happiness, 
here and hereafter, anticipated by it. Simplic¬ 
ity is the inner light of truths; it is also the 
beauty of pure true love. 

HOME. 

Language would be incomplete without the 
word home. It expresses the idea of intense 
love, joy and sorrow, and next to heaven is 
dearest to the heart. However humble it may 
be, it comes up from sunny childhood the green¬ 
est spot of memory. Home is a world in itself 
with its laws, manners and proprieties, all de¬ 
fined by parental authority and moral maxims. 


wayside: thoughts. 


9 


In the pure home work is worship, and the sim¬ 
ple duties of life bring to the undeveloped mind 
the kindly light of intelligence. The good father 
with manly fortitude conquers the predominant 
faults that life may be a blessing to his wife and 
children, while the good mother sacrifices self 
to love that by its tender influence she may lead 
her dear ones on the pathway of duty. Every 
day has its alloted work for all. The Children 
grow up in childlike simplicity; their enjoyments 
are rational and pleasant, and their intercourse 
at work or play is kindly and courteous. Pride 
has no place among them, and not one of those 
evils that tend to imbrute mankind, has ever 
cast a shadow on the whiteness of their souls. 
It is in the everyday little acts of kindness and 
pleasant words that one can see down into the 
clear depths of pure, home culture. 

In this world of ours afflictions are sure to come. 
A son or daughter is stricken down with a seri¬ 
ous disease. The good family is not fearful, 
they accept the visitation with the deepest rev¬ 
erence and humbly kiss the hand that smites. 
Love and sorrow, twin sisters of compassionate 
mercy, sit by the couch of the dying one until 
the agony of the family goes out from its Geth- 
semene to the Cross. Family religion has tri- 


10 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


umphs of its own, too pure and sacred to be 
known outside the consecrated home. 

In after years there is another affliction. A 
young man goes out into the world—into the 
turbulent, pitiless world. The old home love 
soon leaves his heart as the spirit of evil enters 
it, and memory that ought to be a blessing, has 
to be destroyed that it may not be a demon of 
torture. Evil association produces disbelief, 
and so the moral ruin of the young man is soon 
effected. A day may come when his mother 
will reclaim him. His obdurate heart shall be 
subdued by the old home love, and the hand of 
sorrow will lead him back to the fold. Home 
influences never die. Though lost for a time 
some pitying angel will restore them to light, 
when least expected, and a mother’s tears will 
turn them into rays of heavenly glory. 

One night, many years ago, I sat on the shore 
of Lake Huron, pondering the past, and contrast¬ 
ing it with the present. Dark thoughts—darker 
than the starless night around me—were in my 
soul, and I prayed that some lethean spirit 
would come and annihilate my memory. I tried 
to forget the past—to forget God, and I made 
up my mind that night to drop into the eternal 
void. There was no light in my mind, no hope in 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


11 


my heart. I could hardly call up an illusion of 
death. A voice came out on the night winds 
that startled me. I listened, a woman was 
singing in a house close by, and the song was 
one my mother sang for me in the days gone by. 
The voice too was so like hers. Thus it was 
my mother came back into my heart, and from 
the fountain of repentant love touched by her 
pure soul, tears of passionate joy rolled down my 
cheeks. The darkness of the night left me— 
the loneliness, the despair, all vanished, and the 
home of my youth in all its dear old loveliness 
came back to my heart, to gladden my thoughts 
and to bless all my dreams. Surely a mother’s 
love keeps a light ever burning in the window 
for her poor, outcast child who ma}^ lose his way. 

We need such home culture as will make the 
homes of people cheerful and happy, where 
young and old can have free access to pure, clean 
literature, and to the beauty, if not the bounty, 
of generous nature. Home ought to be the 
cradle of pleasant memories, and the sacred 
shrine of pure love and unsullied truth. Sim¬ 
plicity should be the guardian of all the domes¬ 
tic graces and virtues. 

May God bless the homes of the people. 
Home, sweet home—home here and home in 
heaven. 



CHAPTER II. 


A REVERIE. 

A few days ago I came across this wail of a 
doubting soul: “It is so hard to believe in the 
light of another world that sends no ray into the 
gloom of this.” Often, indeed, have I thought 
so. Many and many a time have I looked for 
a rent in the clouds overhead, and* when the 
world closed its door in my face have I sought 
the lightless chamber of despair. When de¬ 
ceived by those I trusted, when every hope was 
false to me, faith dropped dead in my soul, and 
my heart was forced to feast on its own bitter 
agony. When today I look inward on the 
grim skeleton of a wasted life and see the wreck 
and ruin around, I ask myself what shall be the 
end of all—ask if my illusions and myself are to 
be annihilated in death? 

I am sitting by the Guyandotte in a bend of 
the river; cliffs overhang the spot wreathed with 
kindly evergreens, while on the other side is an 
opening lawn, to which the mountains gently 
shelve down. I am pleased; my poor weary 
heart is restful, and my mind goes away to the 
home of my youth. Is not this a ray of light 
from a better world to this sad world of unrest? 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


13 


I go back to the past, weep at the grave of my 
mother and thank God for my sorrow. I pity 
the man or woman who, at a mother’s grave 
can doubt. My faults and my follies, my suffer¬ 
ings and misfortunes appear before me, and I 
ask myself: Who is the author of these ? I an¬ 
swer: Lord, it is I. Is not this also a ray of 
light from a better world? 

Looking on the flowing Guyandotte I think of 
my native land and the beautiful river that 
flows through the Valley of my childhood. What 
legends and traditions belong to that Valley ! It 
is the abode of song and the Avondhu a river of 
inspiration. Music has not in all this wide world 
a more lovely home, nor echo a softer, sweeter 
voice. What is it that gives to my poor country 
hope and inflames her soul with a lofty patriot¬ 
ism that smiles at danger and defies death? 
What but the bright consciousness of a world 
beyond this, where truth and justice reign, and 
love and mercy keep watch over the treasury of 
God. 

A green grave in that far off Valley has been 
transferred to my heart, and there I see at times 
the transfiguration of one who in heaven is weav¬ 
ing a chaplet for my brow of the long vanished 
dreams of my life. In that dear Valley I have 


14 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


prayed and wept for liberty. I followed the 
“splendid phantom'’ across the ocean and found 
but a skeleton, richly veiled before which 
thoughtless people bowed down in worship. 
Liberty! there is no liberty but in truth and jus¬ 
tice—there is no nobility but in humanity disci¬ 
plined and educated in mercy and charity. In 
my boyhood I was free and happy—in my man¬ 
hood I cast from me the light of reason and 
fettered my soul with rusty illusions. Age has 
brought me calmer reflections. I love freedom 
and hate restraint, and still find among the hills 
and streams many a pleasant retreat. Nature 
is around me and in her glorious shades I learn 
the purest philosophy, and study the divine po¬ 
etry from which true art draws its inspiration. 
The streams are the minstrels of God that sing 
to me the songs of a world beyond this. 

“ Is there never a chink in the world above, 

Where they listen to words from below ? ’ ’ 

So sings a sweet, sad minstrel. O yes, 
there’s a chink where the ear of God is ever lis¬ 
tening. He takes up every wail of the heart 
and blends it with the harmonies of heaven. He 
preserves each sigh for the minstrel angels of 
the night and rejects only the discords produced 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


15 


by hatred, selfishness and other malignant spir¬ 
its of evil. 

There is rest for all. When the mind is child¬ 
ish, and loves the color of those old dreams 
that mantled the mountains long ago—when the 
heart holds to its cold, slow pulse the faded 
morning-glory of its life, and tries to forgive and 
forget—it is time to turn in with the other sleep¬ 
ers and fall to sleep. Rest! there is rest for 
all—rest and peace. 

Flow on thou beautiful Guyandotte ! I love 
to hear the rippling song of thy waves; the silent 
anthem of the mountain forests, and the evening 
hymn of the birds when the sun is going down 
the western slopes to rest. Flow on—so flows 
with its memories the stream of my life to the 
endless sea—the unseen shoreless sea of the in¬ 
finite. Farewell, noble stream ! this may be 
my last reverie on thy banks—my next may be 
on the other shore where “ God is love and Love 
is Heaven. ” 





CHAPTER III. 

THE BURIAL AT SEA. 

Crossing the Atlantic some forty-seven years 
ago from Liverpool, England, to New York, in 
midwinter, we had many of the vicissitudes 
experienced in a voyage at that season of the 
year. There were about five hundred passengers 
on board, all healthy, and with few exceptions 
young. I remember well my last look at the 
beautiful green isle of my birth—the agony of 
the heart, and the memory of loved ones I left 
there in sorrow. Others also had their sorrows 
on board the Lady Franklin, but soon we got 
over all that, and our intercourse became pleasant 
and agreeable. Among the many young ladies 
of our company, there was one who had done all 
she could to make others cheerful as herself. 
She was well educated and refined, and when a 
calm night came, would sing some sweet old home 
song, and coax others to do the same. She was 
a good storyteller, and had a rich supply of old 
legends and gloomy traditions of her race. She 
was loved by all, was kindly disposed and most 
attentive to the few old people with us. In truth 
Kate McCaura was Queen, and not one insub¬ 
ordinate or rebellious subject had she on board. 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


17 


One night some sad recollection kept me 
awake; I got up and went to the quarter deck; 
the night was cold, the moon looked troubled 
and the sky had a gray, unpleasant aspect. Close 
to the Capstan, Kate and a noble looking young 
man named D’arcy were in close conversation. 

They stood up to receive me as I approached, 
and for the few moments we were together, I 
could see plainly that they were lovers. D’arcy 
had passed through the Dublin University with 
honor, and, like many young men educated 
there, was an ardent patriot. He had been in 
America before, for a short time, but long enough 
to study the government and institutions of the 
country. He would in the future, “come weal, 
come woe, ” make his home in the great, young 
Republic. Kate was of his class, an ardent 
republican also; I became a friend of both. 

The ocean is the great school of meditation, 
the one place where the heart loves to brood 
over sacred memories, and where sorrow comes 
to sing her sweetest songs to the weeping soul. 
Often did Kate, D’arcy and I sit day or night on 
the quarter deck speaking of our hopes and the 
grand possibilities before us. What recollections 
would spring up in our minds, of home, of the 
mountains and valleys we had left behind. First 


18 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


love is the truest, and home love will forever and 
ever be the deepest in the human heart. 

On Christmas eve, Kate McCaura sang for 
Darcy and me one of Griffin’s Sweet Songs. 
She had hardly finished when the Captain told 
us to go to our apartments and make everything 
secure, as a storm was approaching. He requested 
me to take charge of two young English ladies, 
sisters, which I readily consented to do. The 
storm struck the ship at 8 p. m. I thought every 
plank was crushed to pieces. It was as if all the 
forces of nature united had dealt us a blow from 
which there could be no recovery. Every sail 
was furled, and the ship was tossed by the mad 
waves rushing at her like fiends. With great 
difficulty and no little danger I made my way on 
all-fours into the hall leading from the officer’s 
apartments to the main deck. The sky, the sea, 
the noise of the waters, the shrieks of the wind 
through the cordage, all overawed me, but as I 
felt that death was inevitable, I resolutely made 
up my mind for the worst that could befall. To 
my young English friends I spoke cheerfully, 
and then and there learned for the first time a 
lesson worth knowing—that in giving consolation 
to others we receive consolation ourselves. Call 
this compensation, if you please, I only know it 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


19 


as a precious favor bestowed on us by God. 
The storm continued with very few intermissions 
until about noon of the next day after Christmas. 
I could not pray—an ejaculation would now and 
then escape from my soul. I had done my duty 
to my two fair friends, and left the rest with God. 
The day after the storm I went on deck, D’arcy 
came to me excited. O, so haggard! Kate, he 
told me, was dashed out of her berth against a 
stanchion, and received a dangerous contusion in 
the left side from which she could not recover. 
I went down with poor D’arcy to see her; death 
was dreaming on her white brow, and her lips 
were slowly moving. She recognized me, and 
as I bowed my head close to hers, she said- 
“ The dream is over—all for the best. If you 
ever return to the old home-land, kiss the shore 
for me, and give to her my love.” I retired and 
left her with D’arcy. In a few moments he 
called me; my English friends so lovingly devoted 
to her, were with me. A smile passed over 
Kate’s face as she looked at us, and with her 
beautiful hand against D’arcy’s face, she died. 
Died on mid-ocean between the land of her love 
and the land of her hope. No maidens to deck 
the couch with the flowers of the valley, or sing 


20 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


the wild Coronach of her race above the beloved 
dead. 

We silently watched through the night by the 
bier on which she lay—O how sorrowfully and 
how silently ! and when the broad daylight came 
she was borne out on deck. I read the burial 
service at sea ! the plank was raised by the weep¬ 
ing sailors, and the body enveloyed in canvas 
was dropped into the sobbing sea. 

I left Hugh Darcy to himself for the remain¬ 
der of the day and next night. His grief would 
bear no intrusion, for sorrow, when pure and 
deep, loves solitude. At night I took to the 
quarter-deck to think or dream. The ocean 
was henceforth sacred to me. Her grave ! Ev¬ 
ery wave was a messenger from her, and the 
weird winds sang through the night a solemn 
requiem for her departed soul. Poor Darcy ! 
what his reflections were I knew not—the angels 
of God only could know. Next day I met him; 
he was calm and noble in his bereavement. He 
greeted me with a smile that pierced my heart, 
for sorrow smiles when the idea of immortality 
brings relief. He stretched out his hand to¬ 
wards the waters astern, and in a low, sad tone 
said, “Her grave!” I took his hand in mine, 
my eyes turned to the direction of his and I re- 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


21 


peated the words, “Her grave!” adding “the 
sea will give up its dead, we will all meet again.” 

I never saw such majesty in man as in Darcy 
during the remainder of the voyage. ‘ ‘ I would 
go back” said he to me one day “to Europe 
and enter one of the armies, but she would not 
approve it. Would you believe it, when I walk 
the deck at night I feel her presence near me: 
it gives me strength of faith and purifies and ex¬ 
alts my mind.” He had no definite course 
marked out for him, nor had I. Two days after 
landing we separated—drifted far apart, he 
northward and I to the South. Did we ever 
meet again? We did—you shall knowhow and 
when. 

I was in New Orleans next year, and from 
there went to Texas. I was wishing for adven¬ 
ture, and had all I could desire in the Lone Star 
State. At San Antonio, one day in conversa¬ 
tion with a cavalry officer, I learned that 
Hugh Darcy was in the third U. S. cavalry, 
and was pleased to hear him highly spoken of. 
We had been drifting apart farther and farther. 
I remained two years in Texas, went back to 
New Orleans and was in Old Virginia when the 
war of secession came on. I joined the Confed¬ 
erate army. The day after the battle of Chan- 




WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 



celorsville a staff officer informed me that a 

countryman of mine, a Union soldier and pris¬ 
oner, was dying close by. I went to see him. 
He had been dangerously wounded in a cavalry 
skirmish. When he saw me he spoke my name 
and smiled. It was Captain Hugh D’arcy. 
Some of the old army officers recognized him 
and were very kind to him. “You remember,” 
said he, “the voyage across the Atlantic and the 
burial at sea?” I told him that I did, and never 
would forget it. Even dying he had a soldierly 
noble appearance. ‘ ‘ I am going to Kate, ” said 
he. “Nothing could separate us. She has been 
my life, my love, my guardian angel. I was 
true to the old Flag, it was the only Flag that 
represented liberty, and it was true to our peo¬ 
ple. I am dying, the end of this life is near to 
me; the beginning of the life eternal is at hand.” 
He gave me his hand. “ Good by, and God 
bless you,” he said, and as he was closing his 
eyes forever on this earth, I whispered: “Re¬ 
member me to Kate.” He nodded his head and 
died. We buried him close by—gave him a 
brave soldier’s grave. A few lingered awhile to 
take a last sad look at his resting place. I sat 
there until far into the night, speaking to my 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


23 


soul of the sorrows of life and the freedom that 
death brings. I pressed my face to his grave, 
thought of Kate’s in the deep Atlantic—and 
wept. 




CHAPTER IV 


FORGOTTEN TRUTHS. 

It is in the nature of the human mind never to 
be at rest, to be always seeking for something 
new, and reaching for what is beyond its ken. 
In looking for a short cut through time man often 
leaves behind him the beacon light of safety and 
stumbles into dark places. Nations rise and fall 
into dust, races rule and perish, and the language 
of the earth’s most ancient monuments speaks 
only of life and death. The life history of those 
nations and races is lost in everlasting forget¬ 
fulness, and the oldest memorials of Egypt reveal 
to us no more of human thought or human action 
than does the rocky cliff against which wind and 
water have been beating for unknown centuries. 
Warrior kings who appalled the world in their 
day are no longer remembered, and armies that 
shook the earth with their tread, are turned up 
by the plow for the sower. 

The monumental fragments of those ancient 
nations show that physically and intellectually 
they were our superiors. Their destruction was 
caused by rejecting truths flashed out by God 
from time to time on this world. “They loved 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


25 


darkness better than light because their deeds 
were evil." They were proud and haughty, 
despised the poor and trampled on justice. They 
lived for time and had forgotten eternity. 

The difference between ancient and modern 
nations was made by Christianity. The death 
of Christ shook the foundation of the Roman 
empire. The early church was consecrated to 
God and humanity in the blood of the, martyrs, 
and when the empire fell Christianity appeared 
leading by the hand into its fold the barbarians 
who trampled on the diadems of the Caesars. 
The age of faith was prolific of good men and 
noble deeds, who had not forgotten the truths of 
God. But man can never remain satisfied. 
Pride, haughty and exacting, seduced from faith 
and duty those who should have remained loyal. 
One by one the truths of God were forgotten, 
and the spirit of justice fled the world. Tyrant 
fought against tyrant, religion became enslaved, 
and might worshipped as right. The reign of 
terror came, and the oppressors of the world, the 
foes of God, were overawed. 

After all these changes one would reasonably 
think that the rulers of the earth would pursue a 
course less offensive to justice and more in har¬ 
mony with the spirit of peace. A change has 


26 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


taken place, to be sure, but not such as is most 
needed. In society everywhere the upper crust 
sparkles with diamonds, and has a cheerful, bril¬ 
liant appearance, but if we go down under the 
surface what do we behold ? Poverty, want and 
every kind of destitution. Humanity is imbruted 
by covetousness and the worst passions are 
fostered of class against class. If common sense 
were honored, rich and poor could live as good 
neighbors mutually assisting and respecting one 
another. It is not by legislation, nor church 
influence, necessary reference can be effected; 
nor is it by political effort that justice can be 
established, but by seeking for the long-forgotten 
truths of God. Let us beware, God is patient, 
but what can even divine patience do for those 
who are bent on their own destruction ? In the 
simple rules and precepts given us by Christ, we 
can find the lost inheritance. “Seek and ye 
shall find.” 

If from the pulpit we would hear less of con¬ 
troversy, less of labored disquisitions on abstract 
theology, and more of the admonitions and 
maxims of the Savior, so long forgotten, it would 
have a tendency to improve the morals and take 
from the heart of society the evils eating at its 
core. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


27 


The most necessary truths have been forgotten 
because only such have been presented to us as 
would not disturb human interests. If we take 
up the Bible, we will find in it those forgotten 
truths; they will flash on our souls with light 
divine; they begem every page as stars begem 
the sky at night. It is vain to ask God to save 
us, as he has made known to us the way by 
which we can save ourselves. We must work in 
humanity for human salvation. It was thus 
Christ worked on earth. The ear of God is 
closed against the pra}^er of the hypocrite. If 
we make a foundation of human skulls cemented 
by human blood and tears, for a new order of 
civilization, let us look out. The ghost of Baby¬ 
lon stalks the earth. 

The forgotten truths will come to us when we 
are ready and willing to receive them. They are 
the peace ambassadors of God to the nations. 
They will make us Christ-like in meekness, in 
obedience, in self-denial, and in love. 

“Seek and ye shall find/’ 




CHAPTER V 


THE PAST AND THE PRESENT. 

Before the War of Secession the United States 
was a truly democratic country. The manners 
and customs of the people were in keeping with 
the principles of Government, and there was no 
time given to pomp or ostentation. The people 
were as nearly like-minded as it was possible for 
them to be, and there was almost a child-like 
desire among them for harmless jokes and fun, 
that kept the mind cheerful. In those days 
there were neighbors with neighborly feelings 
and attachments which made life as happy as if 
there was no such thing as evil in the world. 
The old people loved to meet and go over the 
stories of pioneer life and the great events of 
American history. When sickness or death 
visited a community the finest sympathies of 
nature were brought into action, and each felt 
keenly the affliction of the other. There were 
those, of course, who had genealogies, who 
claimed a grand ancestry, and fretted because 
God had not given them an Adam of their own, 
but without such contrasts, plain simple people 
would be at a loss to know their own worth. If 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


29 


there were no high-headed fools in the world, 
clear-minded people would not know themselves. 
Hospitality was a cardinal virtue in those days, 
and the door that had not the latch string out¬ 
side was shunned as leading to darkness. The 
home-circle was never complete unless it had a 
visitor or stranger to add to its pleasure, with a 
good song or story. The spinning wheel and 
loom were in almost constant use, and some of 
the most delightful courtships accompanied the 
whirring of the wheel. By the way, courtship 
was then a reality that would make the heart 
bound with joy, and give to the eye a brilliancy 
unknown in these degenerate days. There were 
no set rules, no perfumed nonsense, no silly 
bowing and scraping, no idiotic phrases, but a 
courtship untrammeled by cold formalities or 
silly prudery, and as free as nature could make 
it. Wouldn’t it be amusing to see a dude step 
up to one of those stalwart girls, with arms and 
muscles strong and plaint, and a general physi¬ 
cal development that would make a trained 
pugilist chew the cud before he would dare to 
tread on her corns. She would play with her 
dude as with a kitten, and laugh herself sick at 
the new freak of nature. 


30 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


Muster day was a glorious yearly event. Every 
man was then a soldier from his toe nails to the 
crown of his head, and every woman having hus¬ 
band or lover decked out in military toggery, 
felt as proud as an empress—and a hundred 
times bigger. But the Fourth of July was the 
day of days. If there was no barbecue, there 
was always plenty of hard cider and gingerbread. 
It was the great national day when every man 
imagined himself a George Washington, and 
every woman, young or old, a goddess of liberty. 

The War of Secession came, and with it a 
disastrous change. Before then United States 
senators and congressmen, nearly all distin¬ 
guished for great ability, could be seen every day 
walking to the Capitol. After the war, poor, 
third-class statesmen—war drift washed in by a 
tide of blood—rode to the Capitol in splendid 
equipages, horses richly caparisoned and hous¬ 
ings of burnished gold or silver. Before the 
war the President lived like a humble citizen in 
the White House: after the war the courtly cus¬ 
toms of European monarchy were introduced, 
and the White House had its guard of honor. 
After the war came pride and fashion among 
the people—the foolish people, and our young 
women gave themselves up to all the frivolities 



WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


31 


that could be devised. Young men rejected the 
simple ways of their fathers and the man or 
woman was admired more for what the tailor or 
dressmaker had done for either, than for what 
God had done. 

To be sure we are better educated, but the 
more educated we are the more worthless we 
are. We learn history and civil government, 
hygiene and physiology, but we never study the 
elementary principles of true manhood or woman¬ 
hood. Labor is dishonor, and honesty will soon 
be among the lost arts. 

Ours is not merely a case of degradation—it 
is downright degeneracy. We are artifical, 
there is no health in us. We dress in defiance 
of nature; we eat adulterated food, and poison 
every thing we use, and stuff ourselves with 
patent medicines—and for what? To make 
money and kill one another. 

If we go back to the better days, behind the 
sixties of this century, and love and work and 
live as the men and women of those days did, a 
true, noble American manhood and womanhood 
will be fully restored to the country. 

May it be so. 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE SABBATH DAY. 

That the Sabbath is a divine institution is a 
fact well established by experience and the will¬ 
ing assent of mankind. Every language in the 
world has the week, just as we understand it, 
and this in itself goes far to show the universality 
of the rule. Bacon says: “The three objects of 
philosophy are God, nature and man. ” To leave 
God out would be to deny him. Man has to 
labor for his daily bread, and the wisdom of this 
divine command is seen in daily necessities. But 
man requires rest, and to meet this want one 
day of the seven was set apart for that purpose. 
Nature requires rest also, and enjoins it on that 
day with man. On the Holy Sabbath God 
invites the soul to come to him from the cares 
and annoyances of the world, to listen to his 
admonitions, to join the angels of heaven in 
praise and adoration; to participate in the peace 
and love of the family and take such harmless 
recreation as would be conducive to simple, social 
pleasure. 

Free thinkers are not willing to accept the 
Sabbath as a divine institution, and insist on 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


33 


treating it as an open question; and there are 
Christians who, though not disputing the divine 
origin of the institution, nevertheless treat it with 
cold indifference, as a dead letter no longer 
binding on conscience. 

Under the Mosaic dispensation there were two 
classes of Sabbatarians, both of which have 
come down the ages to our time. One would 
honor the Sabbath day in a decorous, rational 
manner; the other would make it a gloomy day, 
placing senseless restriction on every thought, 
word and deed, and throw a black pall over 
everything cheerful in nature. This pious class 
was known as the “Pharisees,” and severely 
condemned by the “Lord of the Sabbath” him¬ 
self on more than one occasion. The two classes 
exist toda}^; the long-faced austere Pharisee is of 
the orthodox type; the other of the Apostolic 
type, who would keep the holy day with sunny 
smile and cheerful words in church or out of it. 
To him the day is one of freedom from the noisy 
turbulence of the world; from the “loss and gain” 
strife of coveteousness. He enjoys the day as of 
the Lord, and pours out his gratitude in prayer 
and praise to Him. He tries to make others 
happy as himself by letting into the heart as 
much light as possible. He is ever ready to help 


34 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


his neighbor lift an ox out of the ditch; thinks it 
no sin to pluck an ear of corn on the Sabbath for 
a needy child of God, to sing a pleasant song or 
draw the bow across a violin. He has a loving 
heart and is thankful to God for the pleasant 
enjoyment of the Sabbath. 

Fenelon one Sunday asked a curate of his, 
“What did you preach today?” The reply 
was: “Against the Sunday evening amuse¬ 
ments of the people.” “What!” exclaimed 
the good prelate, “Would you have the poor 
who are forced to incessant labor six days of the 
week to have no pleasure, no amusement on the 
one day of the week God has given them ! ’ 
But is the Sabbath necessary, and is it an insti¬ 
tution of the Christian Church ? It is necessary 
as a blessing to labor; necessary as a day on 
which the soul can hold communion with God; 
as a day when the down-trodden can forget the 
crimes that cryv to heaven for vengeance and 
become reconciled to the patient, self-denying 
example set us by Jesus Christ. It is the day 
when the temple of religion is open to all, where 
rich and poor can lay their sorrows on the altar 
of mercy. It is the one day of the seven when 
true freedom may be enjoyed by all the world- 
weary children of God. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


35 


It is not right on that holy day to muzzle our 
youth, like dumb oxen on the threshing floor; to 
picture God as a tyrant, and in the laugh or 
song, in rational amusement as natural to man 
as thought or motion, see heaven-offending 
crimes. The Christian Church directs and 
ministers to the whole man or woman spirtual 
and physical and allows such recreations as will 
not offend against good morals. Christianity 
ought not give asylum to the Pharisee con¬ 
demned and rejected by Christ, nor allow the 
hypocrite to be the interpreter of the will of God. 

The Sabbath is a truly Christian institution, 
for the Lord, of the Sabbath was the founder 
and is the glory of the Christian religion. Every 
principle and ordinance of the Church of God 
revolves around the Sabbath. Atheism has 
tried by all the dread forces of evil to destroy it, 
but it came forth from every ordeal, clear as the 
sun after a storm. The Sabbath will last until 
the end of time, and when time shall be no more, 
it will be blessed and honored in eternity. It is 
the special day of grace to children who throng 
our churches and Sunday schools to learn of 
Him, who was a poor child himself, the lesson 
of obedience, the sweet, tender duties we owe to 
father and mother. The Sabbath brings the 


36 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


grace of God to the consecrated family, and 
tears of repentance to the homeless sinner, 
whose memory recalls to him the happy-Sabbath 
days of his childhood. 

The exile in a foreign land hears the Sabbath 
bell, and home, sweet home, comes into his 
heart—home with its love, its sorrows and tears. 

‘ ‘ The friends of his youth and the kin of his 
birth ” he remembers the first time in years, 
and in agony he bows down his soul and tremb¬ 
ling^ asks for the helping hand of Him who was 
never appealed to in vain. 

The Sabbath has nothing dark or repulsive in 
it. It is the covenant day between God and 
man. May it be honored and glorified forever 
with soulful gratitude to the Lord of the Sab¬ 
bath. On the Sabbath day I love to see the 
solemn mountains, the valleys and glens, and 
feel the influence of the sacred hush of nature. 
The heart of nature is close to the heart of God. 
The little birds have their Sabbath songs, and 
the streams also have theirs. In the great tem¬ 
ple of nature, the God of nature is truly wor¬ 
shipped, and among its aisles one can hear the 
harmonies of heaven, for ministrel angels are 
there unseen. 



CHAPTER VII. 


DANGER AHEAD. 

Long before the days of the Comte de Saint 
Simon men had given up time and talent to 
formulate an ideal society, unwise, because 
impracticable. Prurient philosophy is apt to 
make mistakes, for the reason that it takes no 
note of moral and physical conditions, and turns 
away from the path of experience. Man must 
be taken as he is in his personal relation to social 
life, and not in the aggregate where the best 
aspirations of humanity are lost. One man may 
not agree with another man in taste or habits, 
because these are controlled more by association 
than intelligence, and under ail circumstances 
each will insist on holding to his own free indi¬ 
viduality. To restrain and keep within legiti¬ 
mate bounds this individuality, law has been 
established. 

Civil government is not, as some persons 
would have us believe, a necessary evil, but is on 
the contrary the most beneficent institution ever 
devised for the peace and happiness of mankind. 
It would be as reasonable to say that the family 
government is a necessary evil imposed on chil¬ 
dren. Human government is necessarily invested 


38 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


with authority, and this author^ is best con¬ 
served by obedience. Under all forms of civil 
government are to be found people who are 
unhappy, but how they could acquire happiness 
without government, I cannot tell. Individual 
isolation might be suggested as a safe as}dum 
from want and woe, but every man carries his 
shadow with him, and isolation at best is death. 

There are many theories afloat and some of 
them are not as pacific and humane as that of 
Saint Simon, which has a touch of romance aboutit, 
for instance, the division of the fruits of common 
labor among all members of society. It reads 
like an episode of St. Pierre in his Paul and Vir¬ 
ginia. There are a good many amiable philan¬ 
thropists who hug this illusion to their souls. 
The communist demands that property be com¬ 
mon, and that no man shall call an}^thing his 
own. The modern communist is child of the 
communist of 1793 with all his brutal and bloody 
instincts. He would strike out the name of God 
from the soul of man, abolish the marriage com- 
pact and education; decree death an eternal 
sleep, and virtue and honor unnecessary restric¬ 
tions on man’s natural liberty. Next to the 
communist comes that incarnation of all crime 
and wickedness the Nihilist* He adopts all the 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


39 


bad principles of the communist, is for a general 
reorganization of society, property common to 
all and the substitution of materialism for every 
known system of religion that claims God as its 
author. The Nihilist believes in the commission 
of any crime, however cruel, that may further 
his cause, and adopts assassination as an ap¬ 
proved agent in his work. These anarchical 
societies are not confined to France and Russia. 
In Germany they have been growing stronger 
and stronger. Italy is fearfully infested with 
them, and in England and the United States 
they have active centres,. The increasing force 
of materialism among us, so much deplored by 
our best citizens, gives moral support and encour¬ 
agement to these human fiends in their pro- 
pagandism. 

People give themselves unnecessary trouble 
by reflecting on the unequal distribution of the 
bounties of nature. They grow jealous of their 
rich neighbors and learn to regard them as 
enemies. It is true that conditions exist which 
have a serious tendency to embitter the feelings 
of many persons, but as long as redress can be 
had by moral force, by a sensible use of ballot, 
and by honest, intelligent effort, there can be no 
justifiable use or excuse for hatred and ill-will. 


40 


WAYSXDK THOUGHTS. 


Coveteousness is, by no means, confined to the 
rich; it permeates society from the lowest strata 
to the highest, and it is not uncommon for poor 
people to oppress and cheat one another. 

Too often is heard complaints against this 
class and some other class, but there is no harm 
in such arrangement—on the contrary it gives 
impetus to industry and fosters a noble spirit of 
emulation. If one man lives in a palace what is 
that to me as long as my cottage is free from 
unfriendly intrusion ? I can admire the exterior 
of his mansion as well as he does, and nature 
reveals her beauty to me as cheerfully and freely 
as to him. If I keep my cottage clear and clean, 
I can enjoy it gratefully and pleasantly, can read 
a book, sing a song, or in any other rational way 
amuse myself to my heart’s content—what more 
do I need ? 

The great danger ahead is in the anarchical 
societies. How are we to act against their men¬ 
acing encroachments ? We must take all our 
moral strength out into the light and confront 
soulless materialism to its face. We must be 
aggressive and crush out those who would lay 
waste our country and defile the sacred temples 
of God—the ramparts of our civilization. The 
rich shall not be despoiled of their possessions, 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


41 


nor the poor be imburted by those demons of 
darkness. The people will have to rise up in 
their might and make known to the world that 
the law of God and the civil law of society shall 
continue to be honored and respected in this 
Republic, Liberty of Conscience shall not be 
infringed by midnight lawlessness, nor any right 
of the citizen impaired. Between the palace of 
the rich man and the cabin of the poor man there 
shall be no enmity—between the people and the 
assassins there can be no peace. 

It has been often said that crime is the off¬ 
spring of ignorance. Prison statistics prove that 
such is not the case. There is no secret society 
in the world that has more highly educated 
members than the men and women of the Nihi¬ 
list Societies. The criminal records of this coun¬ 
try show that the most depraved and cruel have 
been fairly educated. The heart was neglected, 
and it is an undeniable truth that the princi¬ 
ples of the Christian religion are neglected in 
nearly all our institutions of learning that noth¬ 
ing should interfere with high intellectual culture. 
We are beginning to know this—beginning to 
see that free thinking influences have sway, and 
that too many of our churchmen have succumbed 
to the evil. Some of our colleges and univer- 




42 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


sities are being Germanized, and the speculative 
philosophy of the “Fatherland” has quite a 
charm for our progressiye students. 

To make society safe we will have to go down 
among the plain people, and urge them by every 
serious consideration to educate the heart as 
well at the mind and consecrate both to God. 
Take away the moral forces of the Christian 
religion and what would our civilization come 
to ? The family is the first school, and there 
onlv can be laid the sure foundation of a nation’s 
greatness and glory. The hearthstone must be 
the corner stone of the temple of our liberty. If 
society can be brought down to the plain level 
of common sense, all will be well, if we can be 
what our fathers and mothers had been, strong 
physically and moralty—strong in faith, truth 
and love, we will be able to withstand all the 
powers of darkness. 

There is danger ahead, but there is a good 
God above. These are evils to be subdued. 
The red hand of anarchy has to be paralyzed, 
and materialism buried in the lightless dungeon 
from which it sprung. The manhood and 
womanhood of this country have precious treas¬ 
ures to preserve. Family truth, purity, honesty 
and industry will have to be carefully and ten- 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


43 


derly fostered—without these no nation ever 
prospered long—with them no nation can ever 
suffer decay. Religious freedom so much 
enjoyed and so truly loved we shall never sur¬ 
render, and the rights of the rich and of the 
poor, we shall defend to the death. Danger 
is ahead—but God is with us to bless, shield, 
and save us. 






CHAPTER VIII. 

SYLVAN BOHEMIA. 

One evening in the summer of 1868, crossing 
over the Alleghany Mountains, from Pocahontas 
county, West Virginia to Bath county, Virginia, 
I was informed that two young men were 
encamped about a mile or so farther east, near 
the summit. I turned from the main road fol¬ 
lowing a dim path in the direction and soon came 
to where they were sitting by a fire. We cor¬ 
dially greeted one another and were soon friends. 
Robert McFarland and Maurice Leahy, both 
about the same age—twenty-six or twenty-seven 
—traveled on foot all the way from New York 
City. “We have been living in Bohemia," said 
Leahy, “for two years or so, and agreed a few 
weeks ago to strike out for these mountains and 
establish a Sylvan Bohemia of our own, where 
during the summer we could enjoy nature and 
take in the pure breath of freedom." Leahy, as 
he spoke, looked a happy fellow. “You see," re¬ 
marked McFarland, 4 ‘we have taken two or three 
books along, and other things in our way of life; 
we were heavily loaded, but that was nothing. 
Mind and heart need recreation and rest, and 
where these cannot be found there is no happi- 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


45 


ness. We purchased our outfit, a coffee pot, 
frying pan and two or three tin cups, together 
with flour and bacon, at Huntersville. Yester¬ 
day Maurice had to hunt up salt and soap, and 
I succeeded in procuring a very respectable 
supply of good unadulterated whiskey.” We 
agreed to form an independent Republic of our 
own—no written constitution, nothing to govern 
us but the three grand, traditional virtues, 
honesty, mutual respect and good behavior.” 
There was a comfortable cave or rock house 
close by, common to all limestone formations, 
and there I became installed with all appropriate 
honors a free citizen of Sylvan Bohemia. 

Leahy had a good violin and was a fine 
performer. McFarland was a clever artist, and 
had a large sketch book, and I was at liberty to 
take thought on the wing and transfer it to my 
Wayside note book. I never will forget our first 
night together in that rock house on the Alle¬ 
ghany. Supper over, we smoked our pipes 
with an air of social comfort that was certainly 
charming. It was delightful to look out in the 
moonlight on the hazy mountains around, the 
Back Creek valley, and up to the clear sky over¬ 
head. Many sad or pleasant memories came to 
us of departed days and absent friends. Leahy 



46 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


took out his violin and accompanied the rich, 
clear voice of McFarland. “A place in thy 
memory, dearest” was rendered with such thrill¬ 
ing pathos by both that I could hardly repress 
my tears; I thought of one who sang it long ago 
for me, and her sigh passed between me and my 
sorrow. “This,” said Leahy, “is what I call 
living, but after all it is where our kind suffer that 
the heart feels the only happiness it can know on 
earth.” A sad smile passed over McFarland’s 
face. “True, Maurice,” said he, “very true. 
From here our best sympathies go to mankind; 
in the city we tire of humanity and sigh for a 
season of rest in the green bowers of nature. It 
is best, I think, to love every one and every thing 
not cruelly unjust, and take the world as we find 
it here or there.” “It is the best we can do,” I 
said ; “and the next best thing at present would 
be a good night’s sleep.” 

Next morning we prepared to go fishing, and 
employed a boy to hold the fort until our return. 
We were successful and followed up fishing excur¬ 
sions for many days. Our acquaintance with the 
people of the valley gave us much pleasure and 
our visits among them were cordially and kindly 
received. We travelled over the most interest¬ 
ing parts of Pocahontas, Bath and Highland 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


47 


counties, and any night we could not find a rock 
house, we would put up under the wide-spread¬ 
ing branches cf a hospitable tree. Our trip was 
delightful and interesting, and we became so used 
to out-door life in the mountains, that to us no 
other mode of living seemed natural or rational. 

One evening I asked Leahy for his opinion of 
Emerson. “He is clever, no doubt," said he, 
“but I have no room in my heart for any of the 
transcendental school of philosophy. Take him 
for your guide, and never will you reach a stage 
of intelligent development. The songs of those 
high-soaring birds were never intended for earth, 
and in heaven they have much better music.” 
“What say you, McFarland?” “O Leahy is 
about right. Emerson has only style, and a not 
very commendable one at that. He has isolated 
himself from humanity and there we shall leave 
him. Take Carlyle, one whose gnarled, cranky 
aphorisms and criticisms have set all the literary 
dupes crazy; why he as dry and lifeless as the 
dust of an Egyptian mummy. I can see 
dyspepsia and constipation in almost every 
sentence of his.” I dropped in a word for 
Dickens, George Eliot and Goldsmith, bringing 
up the rear with Burns and Longfellow, and we 
agreed on these. It was evident that my friends 


48 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


were impressed with the idea that modern 
thought is having a weak, flimsy coach to drive 
out in, and that a style less ornate and peculiar 
would be much more agreeable. 

At Valley Mountain in Pocahontas county we 
walked over the camping ground of Lee’s army 
in 1861. Looking over the magnificent sur¬ 
rounding scenery, McFarland said: “What a 

pity that hatred and ill will should curse such a 
glorious country. . The war is over, but I blame 
the northern abolitionist as well as the southern 
slave owner for the bloody strife. To hear an 
abolitionist talk there was no slavery under a 
white skin. I hate war and I hate everything 
that tends to create or encourage it.” 

At Warm Springs my companions were rec¬ 
ognized by a few New Yorkers among whom was 
Mr. Conkling. From there we went to the head 
of Jackson’s river. We were soon in love with 
the place. Men and women, old and young, 
frequently visited us. Leahy’s violin did good 
service, and Mac’s fine voice wakened up many 
a gladsome echo. Among our visitors was a 
beautiful, womanly girl, a native of North Caro¬ 
lina. Leahy admired her; they became friends 
and soon after lovers. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


49 


When the thought of his Bohemian life would 
come, the poor fellow would try, but try in vain, 
to shut Mary Ellis from his heart. For two 
weeks before we broke up camp, we tried to be 
cheerful as ever, and though violin and voice held 
on, a shadow lay on our hearts. The hour of 
parting came. Leahy and McFarland left for 
New York, and I wandered back to West Vir¬ 
ginia. I had a letter from Mac; he told me that 
Leahy a month after reaching New York, returned 
to Jackson’s river, and near our old rock house 
found a home more congenial to heart and mind 
than our Sylvan Bohemia. 

One day in 1872, I met Leahy and his wife, 
and Robert McFarland, in Staunton, Va. I 
went back to Jackson s river with them, and in 
early June the four of us started for North Caro¬ 
lina. We took the upper route through south¬ 
western Virginia, and by Bristol, Tenn. The 
violin was serviceable on the way and McFar¬ 
land’s voice was in excellent condition, kept in 
good tune by pure moonshine. Lectures were 
delivered in country places; we were expected in 
advance, and never disappointed an audience. 
In one place I lectured against the internal reve¬ 
nue law, and instead of my audience being 
excited by me, I was inspired and excited by my 


50 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


intelligent and appreciative hearers. The proof 
of my success was twelve dollars. 

The mountains of North Carolina are mag¬ 
nificent. It is truly the “land of the sky.” Peaks 
pierce the sky 6, ooo feet above sea level; gorges 
of gloomy depth appal the mind, while glens and 
valleys lie in repose at the base of gigantic 
mountain ridges. Mary knew the country round 
about Morganton, and when we came to Glen 
Alpine she was almost beside herself with joy. 
And well she might. Never did poet dream in 
fairer land—never did painter see in any land 
such diversity of light and shade. Hill and 
valley gave beauty to the higher mountains; and 
streams, clear and bright, reflected a sky that 
seemed a blue veil dropped over the face of 
heaven. Here the weary mind could find rest, 
calling up past visions, and playing with the 
dead flowers of memory. Here also the heart, 
worn and fretted, could lay down the secret 
burden of its woes, and sleep to dream of heaven. 
In such a land there is no death—only a passage 
from light into shade, and from a shadow into 
eternal light. 

On, on, we hied towards the majestic moun¬ 
tains, and as we entered a little green valley, 
through which flows a clear stream, Mary 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


51 


pointed to a neat, comfortable looking cottage 
house, the home of an uncle of hers. Her par¬ 
ents were dead, and she was an only child. 
Leahy informed us one morning that his Bohe¬ 
mian life was ended, and that he would open 
school in mid-autumn. McFarland consented 
to remain with him as assistant. Both had a 
good classical and mathematical education. 
Ever since my great internal revenue lecture, 
Mary believed in her soul that I was cut out by 
nature for congress or the church, and honestly 
urged me to remain and try my luck at either. 

I spent two months with my dear friends and 
left them with sincere regret. I travelled back, 
alone, by Watauga, striking the fountain head 
of New River; down that noble stream to Hin¬ 
ton; from there to Raleigh, and on to Wyoming 
to nurse a sick resolution, forswear allegiance to 
Sylvan Bohemia, and settle down somewhere on 
the beautiful Guyandotte. 



CHAPTER IX. 


CHILDHOOD. 

History is chiefly devoted to the rise and fall 
of nations; to the achievements of man in war or 
peace, and to the progress or decline of learning, 
science and the arts. The philosopher in his 
study of history takes into consideration the 
childhood of society and begins his reflections at 
the cradle. It is said that the “noblest study 
for man is man, ” but it cannot be intelligent nor 
complete, if childhood be left out. It is a mis¬ 
take to regard as historic characters men or 
women who have in some way or other distin¬ 
guished themselves in the world, unless the key 
to their success or failure is sought where in 
childhood they had been making an embryo his¬ 
tory for themselves. A proper appreciation of 
children in their relation to society is an absolute 
necessity and ought not to be disregarded. 

An educated motherhood is needed. I do not 
mean by educated , a knowledge of languages, or 
the high-tide culture so much demanded in these 
days, but a knowledge of womon’s duty in society, 
and of the essential training that would keep the 
child morally and physically, pure and healthy. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


53 


Every mother ought to know the law of God, be 
deeply impressed with the religious ideas and 
feel in her heart that she is a consecrated guard¬ 
ian of the life and honor of her country. We 
very seldom give sufficient thought to child-life. 
In the mad struggle for ephemeral fame, or in 
the greedy energy of self-devouring covetous¬ 
ness, we forget the old home, the purling streams 
and green fields of childhood. We turn away 
from innocence and truth, and the sweet, simple 
love that came to us of old fresh and pure from 
its fountain in a mother’s heart. Not until age 
comes with the white record of years of folly, 
and our hearts are like extinct volcanoes, do we 
go back to find the old home in ruins, and the 
loved ones all asleep in the silent graveyard. 
We go round the circle and reach the starting 
place in the silent dust of a mother's grave. 
“The happiest day of my life," said Napoleon, 
“was that on which my mother took me to 
receive my first communion in the little church 
at Brienne." After so many victories, there on 
the bloody field of Austerlitz, where fate placed 
another wreath on his brow, the world’s greatest 
general remembered the days of his boyhood, 
and the mother who so dearly loved him. 

It is our duty to make childhood happy and to 


54 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


protect it from evil influences. Every word fall¬ 
ing from the lips of children should be clean and 
simple, and if an error occurs, it is the mother’s 
part to gently correct it. Every gesture and 
motion needs supervision, and the sweet grace 
of good manners be carefully attended to. 
Fathers and mothers ought to set a good ex¬ 
ample by courtesy and kindness to their child¬ 
ren. Severity will do no good with little boys 
or little girls; they should have all the freedom 
possible, subject, of course, to necessary restric¬ 
tions. Natural development is at its best, slow, 
and the hot-house process a very dangerous ex¬ 
pedient. Childhood cannot bear rough or rude 
discipline; within the body there is a mind that 
requires time for the growth and expansion of 
every faculty, and simple thought and simple 
language can best lead it into healthy exercise. 

It is a great wrong to force children of six or 
seven years to the slavish drudgery of poring 
over dead books, at a time when outdoor exer¬ 
cise is so much required. This mode of educa¬ 
tion is pernicious, as it has a bad effect on the 
tender, nervous system. Before eight years, 
studies should be intermittent, and only such 
lessons taught as would be agreeable and pleas¬ 
ant. There is time enough through the adoles- 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


55 


cent period for healthy intellectual develop¬ 
ment. Forced education is not good, and at 
any period ''cramming' is an intolerable inflic¬ 
tion. By all means let justice be done our 
young people, and let them not be deprived of 
their natural, necessary freedom. 

In the family woman can do much good; she 
controls the future, and can make or mar a 
nations glory. Religion without her aid can do 
but little for civilization, and without re¬ 
ligion she can accomplish no good. Did not 
Christ think so when he said: “Suffer little 
children to come unto me, and forbid them not, 
for such is the kingdom of heaven.” Women 
are always willing to co-operate with the ser¬ 
vants of God in doing his work. They will lead 
their little ones to the inviting Master and ask 
his blessing and protection for them. Childhood 
is most happy when Christ has a place in the 
family. 

Cornelia, a noble Roman lady, the great 
mother of the Gracchi, embracing her two little 
boys, said to some ladies: “Behold my jewels!” 
May the Christian mothers of this land, em¬ 
bracing their children, be always able to ex¬ 
claim: “Here, beloved country, are our jewels, 
consecrated to the glory of God and the good of 
humanity.” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE SHINBONE RUN DEBATING SOCIETY. 

America leads the world in debating societies 
and in every state, and almost every count}', one 
is sure to be found. Whether they originated 
in the days of Plato, when his principles of phi¬ 
losophy were discussed in the garden of 
Academus, I am unable to say. While knowl¬ 
edge and truth were the chief, perhaps the only 
questions discussed by the Platonic Society, in 
our literary debating societies everything is taken 
up of which the mind can have any cognizance, 
from the midnight perambulations of a flea to 
the astronomical treasures entombed in Cheops. 

On Shinbone run, a beautiful tributary of the 
Marsh fork of Cole River, we resolved not to be 
behind the times, and with the aid of illustrious 
friends from adjacent little cities, we organized 
a literary debating society of our own, with win¬ 
ter hall and summer campus, each in its season 
ready for intellectual use. It must not be imag¬ 
ined that because we had no College or Univer¬ 
sity graduates, with Latin diplomas, among us 
we were in the dark. We had each a few books 
which we often read, and if we were not well up 
in current literature, we had a fair supply of that 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


57 


poorly appreciated commodity called Common 
Sense. We had, to be sure, some loud bursts of 
eloquence from our professional patrons, that 
forcibly struck the ear and died there. Those 
gentlemen from time to time honored us, and of 
course expected to ‘ ‘astonish the natives, ” with 
their Attic grandeur, and often left us in bad 
temper cursing our Gothic strength and unpol¬ 
ished manners. Shinbone run is now so well 
known that a man or woman hailing from it is 
regarded all over the country as a prodigy. 
We have discarded the use of modern grammar 
and like all progressive people, make rules of our 
own, which cannot be violated with impunity. 

The winter season of 1897 was to open on the 
evening of the first Friday in November; and 
early in October the Committee of Arrangement 
met to begin work. Sukey Clinch and Beth- 
saida Hooks were appointed to clean out and 
decorate the hall. Some of our prominent 
ladies were not at all pleased with the appoint¬ 
ment and reluctantly yielded assent. A quar¬ 
tette was invited from Clear Creek, and promised 
to be present; the old Hazey stringed band was 
secured and nothing was left undone to make the 
opening evening of the season a grand success. 
The important question was at length sprung: 


58 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


“What shall be the subject of debate? Fred 
Muler struck it: “Resolved that the North Pole 
belongs to the United States, and we are ready 
to fight for it.” Notices were sent far and near, 
and the best talent was to come to the front. 
The Bible, history, encyclopedias and reports 
of polar expeditions—all were ransacked. 
Imagination had a wide field before it and 
promised to be the most potent factor in the 
contest. Never did the Aurora borealis have its 
dominion so dangerously menaced. One mem¬ 
ber of the society thought the question was too 
far off, and an indignant sister declared it was 
sheer nonsense to lose so much time, and all 
about an old rotten stick. “We must have the 
North Pole” insisted Zack Adams. “I will never 
rest easy until I see Old Glory flying from it. ” 
With the evening came a big crowd, and fears 
were entertained of a lack of room. The Hazy 
Creek violins and banjos gave us excellent music 
and the quartette from Clear Creek sang as if 
inspired. At the appointed time Mose Swigger 
took the chair and called on the Rev. Obadiah 
Mink to offer up a prayer. There was lightning 
in the good, holy man’s eyes and big thunder on 
on his brow. A hush fell over all, while the 
prayer was soaring up. Obadiah in his excite- 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


59 


ment roared out. ‘ ‘O Lord, we are all in the 
dark on this pole question. Give us light to see 
if it is worth seeing, and if it cannot add liberty 
and glory to our country, have it chopped down 
and pitched into hell.” Sam Cooney asked 
permission to make a few preliminary remarks. 
“I have,” said he, “to inform you that there is 
no North Pole. I looked the Bible through, 
and consulted Dr. Talmage’s books and not a 
word did I find about it. I propose we debate 
something else.” For more than an hour 
there was confusion about the location 
of the pole, the material of which it is made and 
the cause of its being driven in the lower end of 
the earth. The confusion increased and while 
Rufus Kimble was making a patriotic speech in 
favor of securing the pole as a roost for the great 
American Eagle, a cry of fire was heard. There 
was a rush for the door, and all escaped. 
Whether the North Pole question will be taken 
up by some other society I know not, but this I 
do know—the North Pole will go up or down in 
history associated with the last night of the 
Shinbone Run Debating Society. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE RIGHTS OF MAN. 

Underlying all social life is the Fatherhood of 
God and the Brotherhood of Man. Without 
this there could be no unity, and without unity 
there could be no universal law of justice. Moses 
had an inspired conception of this truth when he 
proclaimed that the land belonged to Almighty 
God. On this fundamental principle the civil 
institutions of the Jewish nation were established. 
It is not necessary to go so far back to study the 
subject of land tenure, but it is necessary that 
we fully investigate present social systems and 
conditions so as to know if they agree in any 
way with first principles. 

Blackstone defends the old feudal distribution 
of land as a necessary act, and justifies the di¬ 
vision of the people into two classes—the aristo¬ 
cratic and the servile. When God created man 
he bound himself by the act to provide him with 
ample means of sustenance, and this he has 
done. '‘The earth he has made for the children 
of men.” The Mosaic law recognized God as 
the owner, and the children of Israel as limited 
possessors. The people could claim the use 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


61 


from it—nothing more, and that is all that can 
be justly claimed today. 

Under the Christian dispensation, the Mosaic 

\ 

law holds good—all but the ceremonial part— 
and Christ tells us that not one jot or tittle of it 
should pass away until all be fulfilled. In Chris¬ 
tian ethics, there is no arbitrary exclusiveness, 
and he only is deemed worthy of honor who, for 
the good of man, has nobly and unselfishly 
labored with heart and mind. Feudal might 
cannot abrogate the divinely established rights of 
man. 

That God created all men free and equal is 
demonstrated by the fact that Jesus Christ made 
no destinction between man and man, but re¬ 
garded all as brothers. The mission of Christ 
embraced, among other works of his, the level¬ 
ing of all offensive distinctions, and laying the 
the foundation of civilization in brotherly love. 
Whence came the social distinctions which so 
painfully confront us today? Not surely from 
God, for social extremes of wealth and poverty, 
of power and dependence are subversive of 
peace and good will. Civilization is defined to 
be the uplifting of society to the highest possible 

standard of intellectual, moral and physical ex- 

* 

cellence, but when the bounties of nature are 




62 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


not equitably distributed this cannot be accom¬ 
plished. All human rights are derived from God, 
and these rights no man or body of men can sur¬ 
render without inflicting injury on society at 
large. One man tills the soil, another man 
seizes on the product of his labors. Land and 
labor are the two great primary elements of in¬ 
dustrial wealth, and no man has any right to ap¬ 
propriate to himself the product of another 
man's labor. St. Paul says: “The husband¬ 
man must be the first partaker of the fruits of 
his labor.” Some of our learned economists tell 
us that Paul’s maxims might do for Timothy, 
but in our advanced state of modern social pro¬ 
gress they would not do. 

Human life derives its sustenance from the 
land, but if the land is .claimed and controlled 
by a few who contribute nothing by mental or 
physical labor to the support of society, do they 
not also control labor? Nor can anything be 
produced from the land without their consent. 
This surely would, if anything could be, a usurpa¬ 
tion of the authority of Almighty God. Man can 
claim as his own what his labor has honestly 
brought him. This God allows him to have, but 
woe to the man who claims as his own what God 
has never given him. First principles are com- 


wayside; thoughts. 


63 


ing to the front. The people have chosen God 
as their leader, and who can withstand the might 
of his justice. 

There is one evil more fearful than all others, 
resulting from long existing unjust social condi¬ 
tions. It would be a serious mistake to over¬ 
look it. There are many, O, so very many 
persons who think that the existence of a su¬ 
preme being is doubtful, and religion a melan- 
colly illusion, because injustice and oppres¬ 
sion have been allowed to rule the world so long. 
This is the cause of so much crime—crimes that 
are appalling in their nature and destructive in 
their results. Is not’ this in itself enough 
to urge the patient, honest people to unite for 

the common good? Before the common law 
and above it, is the law of God. “Love the 

Lord thy God and thy neighbor as thyself." 
“As ye would that men should do unto you, do 
ye so unto them in like manner." “God,"says 
John Ruskin, “has lent us the earth. It is a 
great entail. It belongs to them who are to 
come after us and whose names are already 
written in the book of creation, as to us, and we 
have no right by anything we do or neglect to 
involve them in unnecessary penalties, or to de¬ 
prive them of benefits which it is in our power to 



64 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


bequeath. “The right to the use of the earth,” 
says William Lloyd Garrison, “if it means any¬ 
thing, means the equal right of all the inhabit¬ 
ants of the globe.” The exclusive right of 
property in the soil is the source of all social suf¬ 
fering and disorders, against which manhood has 
to contend. 

> 

Labor, however applied, is honorable, and the 
wage earner in shop, factory or mine has rights 
which he cannot surrender. His compensation 
cannot be meted out by that cold-blooded rule of 
supply and demand. Labor is the creator of 
industrial wealth, and what it creates must be 
subordinate to it. It has the right to resist every 
encroachment on its dominon, and to protect its 
freedom and independence. The palace shall 
not stand between the workingman’s doorway 
and the sun, and the profits of labor shall afford 
descent garments to the poor man’s wife as well 
as to the rich man’s wife. Labor demands neat, 
happy homes where taste and intelligence can 
be fostered. 

Labor unions are necessary; they are the best 
safeguards of national honor* In union there in 
strength. Civilization cannot exist where anarchy 
in gold, and stiletto anarchy confront each other. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


65 


Between the two, labor stands. It stands for 
justice against injustice, for truth against false¬ 
hood, for education against ignorance, for liberty 
against slavery—for the glory of God and the 
Rights of Man. 



5 



CHAPTER XII. 


THE GENTLEMAN. 

There is no appellation given personally to 
man more generally used and so little under¬ 
stood as that of Gentleman. There seems to be 
no rule by which it can be intelligibly defined, 
though the word has in itself the fullest measure 
of meaning. In what is called the higher class 
of society, it has an arbitrary meaning, and ex¬ 
clusive application, while among the common 
people it is used, not so much to designate a 
superior quality as to give expression to loose 
admiration. The aristocratic definition of gen¬ 
tleman is: “A man well bred and of good 
blood.” This is the born gentleman. But as 
far as good breeding goes, the rich man’s child is 
not better bred than the poor man’s child—in fact 
not so well. The poor man’s child is not de¬ 
nied access to its mother’s breast—that pure 
“fountain of love and life.” There is no natural 
nobility in one that the other does not possess, 
and the blood of a Plantagenet or Tudor, chemi¬ 
cally analyzed, is not purer nor richer than that 
flowing through the veins of the poor man toiling 
for his daily bread. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


67 


In society at large, the gentleman is one who 
dresses well, has studied Chesterfield’s principles 
of politeness, wears every day a shirt immacu¬ 
lately white, is a fluent, up-to-date talker of 
local scandal, a warm admirer of yellow cov¬ 
ered literature, and abhors labor. The aristo¬ 
cratic gentleman comes down to us panoplied by 
feudal power—an inheritance of shame. Our 
society gentleman is a nondescript picked up by 
a fashionable tailor and blocked out as a man. 
His intellect and moral worth have worn them¬ 
selves out on a cheap mirror. From these two 
has sprung the dude—that epitome of every 
thing silly and soulless in degenerate human 
nature—a living libel on creation, too harmless 
to have an enemy and too insignificant to have 
a friend. 

There are, however, gentlemen in society, 
who are a blessing to it; and here it may be well 
to give a proper definition of the term. A gen¬ 
tleman is one who never inflicts by word or deed 
pain on others, and who does all in his power to 
please and make every one about him happy. 
Such men are found where Christian duty is 
more than a mere sentiment, and human nature 
is invested with the spirit of consecrated frater¬ 
nity. Gentlemen of this type are common 



68 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


among the toiling millions, sympathetic and 
kind, and ever ready to do a generous deed with 
heart and hand. 

Ancient chivalry was instituted by a few Nor¬ 
man peasants, and the order now seemingly 
obsolete, is modestly perpetuated by the work¬ 
ing people. The clasp of the horny hand of 
our true gentleman is soft and tender as a 
woman’s when ministering to the weak and 
helpless. High culture may be neglected by 
him, but charity he loves and honors. His 
heart is pure as the dew of morning, and his eye 
bright as the azure sky above. No harsh word 
of scorn for the aged, the poor or the afflicted 
ever passes through his lips—in these objects of 
compassionate charity, he sees his divine Master 
and prototype-Christ. 

Our young men of the present generation can 
be true gentlemen, if they will. Honor, fidelity 
to conscience and self-respect, will elevate them 
morally and physically, and self-denial and 
charity will establish them in the favor of all 
good people. We need gentlemen in our legis¬ 
latures, in congress, in the judiciary and in the 
administration of our government. We need 
them as teachers and preachers—we need them 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


69 


everywhere, not the sham article so long inflicted 
on us, but true gentlemen of sound common 
sense, who hold the charter of their nobility 
from God. 



/ 


CHAPTER XIII 


SOCIAL REFORM. 

Wherever eminent- virtues exist they are 
shadowed by dangerous evils, and as such vir¬ 
tues spring from almost imperceptible ones, so 
great evils grow-up from trivial offences. A 
good physician will try to find out the first cause 
of the disease he has under treatment, and an 
intelligent reformer should go down to the insip- 
ient state of the menacing evils he has to deal 
with. Is not the Christian religion able to suc¬ 
cessfully resist all growing evils ? But how can 
it succeed if it does not take the cnild in hand 
and lead it up to honorable manhood or woman¬ 
hood ? 

Here comes in the question of education. The 
majority of our people favor a common free 
school system, independent of all religious influ¬ 
ences, and insist on having only such a system. 
Underlying this preference is the principle that 
the child belongs to the State, and the rank 
denial of liberty of conscience. To the parents 
belongs the child and the right to educate it. 
The people do not belong to the State, but the 
state belongs to the people. The majority rules 
when capable of ruling. Otherwise it is our 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


71 


duty to “ stand against the majority and the drift 
and tendency of the age.” The historian Leeky 
tells us that “Christianity has been the main 
source of the moral development of Europe.” 
The education of the child begins with the child¬ 
hood of the mother, and so it is that the influ¬ 
ences of religion should necessarily be felt from 
the cradle to the grave. 

The father and mother educated for the world, 
do not give much attention to the religions train¬ 
ing of their children. If they at any time take 
notice of it they treat it as a merely interesting 
sentiment. Parental pride gets imbedded in 
the nature of the child and obedience becomes 
but an act of homage inspired by fear. The 
mother is fond of fashionable apparal, and will 
have it if she possibly can; the little girl in her 
teens adopts the mother’s vanity. The little 
boy follows his father’s example, is covetous and 
untruthful. There is no restraint on violent 
passions, no curb on the burning lustful propen¬ 
sities. As boy and girl grow up they reject 
God, dut}^, truth, decency! They have no res¬ 
pect for father or mother—no respect for age, 
poverty or affliction; they belong to the majority. 
It is, after all, pleasant to know that humanity 
still clings to some of our people. Pride has not 


/ 


72 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


yet poisoned the fountain of their honor nor 
robbed their hearts of sweet, tender, charity. 
The poor, working people will hold to the ark of 
God though weal or woe. 

The social reformer is somewhat vague as to 
the scope and character of his work. Direct his 
attention to stock-gambling, to trusts and monop¬ 
olies, and to that greatest of all crimes, the 
enslavement of labor by greedy corporations, 
and he will tell you that all these, and more, 
are inseparably connected with the glorious pro¬ 
gress of the age. The reformer’s business is 
with the common people and their great sin 
intemperance. He is backed up by the churches 
and they complacently strain at a gnat and swal¬ 
low a camel—without salt. They are the great¬ 
est enemies of necessary reform and of truth. 
If the women who go around haggling about 
their rights, and getting their whims into politics, 
would but turn back and seek in their own homes 
—nay, in their own hearts, for work to do, they 
would be sure to find plenty of it. They had 
better keep their own homes in order—clean out 
their own hearts of pride, and other defilements, 
and then they will be better equipped for reform 
work. Let us all reform ourselves first. 

It is not hard to learn how great crimes like 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


73 


those I have referred to, affect public and pri¬ 
vate morals—how they sear heart and mind and 
make desperate a people otherwise patient and 
peaceable. “ Like causes, ” it is said, “produce 
like effects.” If the curse of covetousness, in¬ 
flicted by law in this country, is as bad as that 
other curse which existed in France up to the 

latter part of the 18th century, I hope the 
effect there will not be experienced here. But 

an end will come to our crimes by the moral 
enforcement of the higher law established by 
the supreme ruler of all mankind. 

Social reform is needed, but if it cannot touch 
the stronghold of ruthless class power, then the 
good work must be done among the people. If 
we can bring to the poor man’s home patient 
faith and moral purity—fix in his heart the 
divine assurance of hope and the tenderness of 
charity, it is our duty so to do. Take ill-will, 
jealousy and hatred from our homes and the 
battle is half won. If we shut out the garish 
light of a prominent civilization, and invite the 
brighter, clearer light of intelligence, we will begin 
to rise to the dignity of moral freedom. Kindly 
thoughts and gentle words will bring to every 
one the grace and elegance of true refinement. 
Simplicity will give health and beauty to woman- 


i 


74 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


hood and symmetry to manhood. These we 
can have, but the beginning and the finishing of 
our work must be done by home education aided 
and directed by the Christian religion. 

Our professional, social reformers, lay and 
clerical, are an insult and hindrance to the cause 
of humanity. They labor to impress public 
opinion with the lie that the great crimes of the 
age are committed by the common people. 
The crimes of Imperial Rome were too filthy to 
be chronicled—the crimes committed by defiant 
wealth here are as debasing to society. Let the 
light of truth be spread among the people, and 
love will invigorate their hearts to “press for¬ 
ward to the mark of their high calling.” When 
reason, guided by truth and justice, unfurls her 
banner for the fight, God goes to the front and 
the cause is soon won. Every heart and home 
needs reform, and there is work for all to do. 




CHAPTER XIV 

GOD, AND NATURE’S SABBATH. 

The being of God is demonstrated by the 
metaphysical analysis of the matter and forces 
of nature. From facts and events reason 
ascends to cause, and from one cause to another 
until it finds the ultimate from which all other 
causes proceed. That ultimate is God. St* 
Paul in support of this great truth says, “ The 
invisible things of him from the creation of the 
world are clearly seen, being understood by the 
things that are made, even his eternal God¬ 
head ” Rom 1-20. That the human mind can 
thus find a clear way to the infinite first cause, 
proves that the light of intelligence proceeds 
from the source of all light, God. All men and 
women cannot be metaphysicians, but hundreds 
of millions have arrived at the same conclusion 
—the being of God by simple intuition. The 
greatest triumph of mind that can be achieved, 
is when an humble person, with very limited 
education, or no education at all, sees in every 
phenomenon of nature an evidence of supreme 
power, and falling to earth adores the Almighty 
creator. A flash of divine light often reveals 


76 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


more knowledge to such a soul than science can 
discover by years of thoughtful labor. 

The mind, well grounded in the principles of 
the Christian religion, is never shadowed by a 
doubt. There is no dark chasm between the 
believing soul and God. Wherever goodness 
and truth are revered a true knowledge of God 
prevails and without these he cannot be known. 
“Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? 
or who shall stand in his holy place ? He that 
hath clean hands and a pure heart; who hath 
not lifted up his soul unto vanity nor sworn 
deceitfully ” Ps. 24-34. 1 ° the infinite only is 

there completion. God is infinite, therefore he 
is complete—perfect. Before the act of crea¬ 
tion, he was all in all, and by that act he pre¬ 
pared a new order of things for his own pleasure. 
He cannot err, for being infinitely perfect there 
is no room nor possibility in his nature for an}'- 
thing but truth and love. His will is the motive 
power of all life, the eternal energy of his uni¬ 
verse. One purpose or motive runs through 
all, and the mysterious cord of affinity uniting 
all the parts was set in eternal motion by the 
omnipotent will. He created man in his own 
imagine and likeness that he might love and 
pity him—that he might be the child of his ten- 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


77 


der mercy, for love is the essence of God, and 
truth the light of his countenance. Such I be¬ 
lieve God to be, and as such I adore and worship 
him. There is a line between the knowable 
and the unknowable. When human reason tries 
to overstep that line, it has to fall back on 
faith. In the higher, purer, truer life beyond 
this the principle of God’s love and mercy will 
be gradually defined by the divine teacher, 
Jesus Christ. 

nature’s sabbath. 

I am enjoying the serene beauty of an autumn 
Sabbath on the Clear fork of Guyandotte. The 
mellow sunlight reveals the various colors of the 
forest in all their glory, and gives a glow of 
splendor to the fading charms of nature. I am 
alone with my thoughts, and long vanished 
dreams come back to me. All the grace and 
gentleness—all the truth and love which were 
mine in boyhood are with me now, playing like 
sumbeams among the ruins of my heart. I have 
been going around the circle of time, and I feel 
assured my heavenly Father’s hand will lead me 
across the river to the land where the world- 
weary find peace and rest. 

This is the Sabbath day—this the hour of 
meditation. I recall my thoughts from the past 


78 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


and centre them in God. The mountains have 
laid aside their austere solemnity, and thrown a 
vail of sunlit haze over their glorious summits. 
The spirit of peace broods over the valley; rill 
and streamlet run cheerily along, and the small 
birds sing in their leafy screen, the happiest 
ministrels in nature’s great temple. I remem¬ 
ber the words of the psalmist. “All thy works 
shall praise thee, Lord, and thy saints shall 
bless thee. ” Has nature no soul ?—no conscious¬ 
ness ? Take God’s part away from her—from 
all these pure worshippers around me, and noth¬ 
ing would remain but the shabow of absolute 
death. In the Sabbath worship of nature, the 
passions of the heart are subdued by the breath 
of God, and the soul goes out in contemplation 
to the haven of its hopes. Sun, moon and 
stars; earth and sea, mountain and valley, rill 
and stream, bird and flower—all, all praise and 
worship God. Is mankind exempt from the 
sacred duty of adoration, praise and thanksgiv¬ 
ing ? No, indeed. He should be first at the 
altar with the richest gifts of gratitude from the 
storehouse of his soul. God is ever near to us 
—nearer than we think and it is a grave mistake 
to suppose that he is at an immeasurable dis¬ 
tance from us. His angels are around us, and 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


79 


if we would keep heart and mind pure, we could 
see the divine Master passing by on his mission 
of love and mercy and hear him say: “Come, 
follow me, I am the way, the truth and the life.” 

The sun is slowly passing westward over the 
hills, the birds are singing their parting hymn, 
and the Clear fork in the afterglow of light 
flows along with its low, rippling song of peace. 
The mountain shadows are loth to come down 
lest they disturb the sacred rites of the temple, 
and an indescribable calm—soft and tender— 
has spread its wings over the scene. O how full 
my soul is of silent rapture ! and my heart is tak¬ 
ing from memory hours like these often enjoyed 
in my island home far, far away. I am lost in 
mazes of inspiration. The world lies dead at 
my feet, and visions of love and light reveal to 
me loved ones, so long lost, in the green valleys 
of heaven. 

The services of the day are ended, a solemn 
hush is over all, the last note of the Laudate 
Dominum has died out into a sigh and the 
evening star smiles down from her watchtower 
above. 



CHAPTER XV. 

THE SCHOOLHOUSE AND GRAVEYARD. 

The school bell is calling the boys and girls to 
school. It is the opening day of the session and 
a healthy excitement is happily enjoyed. There 
is music in the sound of that bell that awakens 
pleasant, yet sad echoes in my soul. How well 
I remember my school days—the house and its 
surroundings; the rivulet and the evergreen pines 
in whose delightful shade I nursed illusive hopes. 
Sadly do I remember my cheerful, happy asso¬ 
ciates and I ask myself: “Where are they now? 
All gone—all but me. On distant lands some 
are sleeping in unknown graves; others found 
rest in the bosom of native land, while I linger 
among dead hopes and faded dreams. These 
memories of the past are, after all, precious 
treasures, I, too, will soon go, but it is a con¬ 
solation to know that my God and Father is a 
God of love and mercy, who will call his child¬ 
ren up to the school where we shall study out 
the problems of infinite love and infinite truth. 
O it will be so sweet to hear the school bell 

above, to meet mv old schoolmates, and learn at 

* # . 

the feet of Christ the unfinished lessons of this 
dreamy life. 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


81 


Education here ought to be a primary one—a 
preliminary course to fit us for the higher grades 
in heaven. Children should be taught good 
manners, and kindness, and memory be what 
God intended it to be, the storehouse of pleas¬ 
ant thoughts and noble deeds. Our young peo¬ 
ple should not be educated for the world until 
they are first instructed in the laws of God. He 
has the first claim on human intelligence. Boy¬ 
hood and girlhood ought to be prolonged as much 
as possible. It is the golden period of life, when 
the seed of .pure love and chivalrous honor fall 
into heart and soul. Then it is that association 
should be rigidly watched, lest noxious weeds be 
sown by the evil hand of our common enemy. 

RECESS. 

The scholars are out at pla}^. The laugh 
and shout and merry making are to me the 
truest ideals of freedom. Every motion of lithe 
limb and faultless form is graceful and natural. 
They have already chosen their favorities and a 
mutual feeling runs from heart to heart. This is 
the elysium of life, the May day of memory. 
The grand old mountains are smiling down on 
these happy young people and reverberate their 

voices with the sweetest echoes. New friend- 

6 



82 


wayside: thoughts. 


ships are being born today, and the sinless heart 
yields to the first impulses of love’s first dream. 
Memory is taking some delightful pictures, and 
silence is listening to tender babblings of the old, 
old happy folly. The play ground is a world in 
itself, but an embryo world that has not yet 
learned the siren wisdom of deceit. Many of 
these young people may, in the future, recall 
the present, pleasant enjoyments, and sigh for 
the days when round the school house they 
played among the foothills of heaven. Let us 
in God’s name do all in our power to make our 
young friends happy, but happy they cannot be 
without purity and truth. To save them from 
the contamination of a cold and cruel world is a 
duty we owe to God, to society and ourselves. 
A few more hours and school will be dismissed. 
May the scholars find at their homes good 
example and that gentle kindness which never 
fails to make a lifelong impression on heart and 
mind. 

THE GRAVEYARD. 

Not far from the school house is the hamlet 
of the dead on a beautiful knoll close to the 
mountain and overlooking the Clear fork river. 
It is safely fenced, and has a quiet, restful 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


83 


appearance. I always love to see a neat garve- 
'yard and I think that those who fail to honor 
the dead can have but little respect for the liv¬ 
ing. From the cradle we toddle to the school 
house; from the school house we go into the 
busy world, and from the world, its pomp and 
power, its troubles and sorrows, to the grave. 
This brief epitome of life is true, and the mind 
that ponders it well cannot fail to be convinced 
that there is nothing true but heaven. 

Those who sleep in the little graveyard close 
by have left pleasant memories behind them. 
The rugged honesty and sincere sympathy of 
each is fondly remembered. The lose may be 
crushed, but its fragrance remains. I love to 
think of the virtues of the departed. They had 
faults, but those little discords are lost in the 
ever-living harmony of good deeds and noiseless 
charity. The good of life is not impaired by 
our moral infirmities, when we humbly ask 
God to blot them out from his remembrance. 

The children as they play around the school 
house, little know that every laugh and shout 
awaken echoes in the grave. The laugh of joy 
and sigh of sorrow are blended here, and death 
throws its shadow across our path from the 
cradle to the grave. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


MAN. 

“Let us make man in our image and likeness.” 
So spake God, and he made him. He gave to 
this new creature an immortal soul having will, 
memory and understanding. The materialist 
denies this and asks for the proof. If man has 
no immortal soul, how can he have consciousness 
of God, infinite? A clever theologian says: 
“God, the soul, truth, love, rightiousness, 
repentance, laith, beauty, the good—all these 
are unapproachable by scientific tests. Yet these 
and not salts and acids and laws of cohesion and 
chemical affinity and gravitation are the supreme 
realities of man’s life even in this world of matter 
and force. When one demands scientific proof 
of immortality, then it is as if he demanded the 
linear measurement, or the troy weight of an 
emotion or the color of an affection, or as if he 
should insist upon finding the human soul with 
his scalpel or microscope.” The materialist, 
however, insists that the life of the soul ends 
with the life of the body. His theory is that the 
brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile. 
Fiske says: “It is not even correct to say that 
thought goes on in the brain. What goes on in 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


85 


the brain is an amazingly complex series of molec¬ 
ular movements with which thought and feeling 
are in some unknown way correlated, not as 
effects or as causes, but as concomitants.” Take 
away the idea of immortality permeating the 
gospel of Jesus Christ, and nothing would remain 
worthy of attention. 

God gave to man an immortal soul, having 
will, memory and understanding. This will had 
the divine law to guide it. Will carries with it 
freedom, for a will not free would be useless and 
divine wisdom makes no mistake. 

It is said that God had foreknown and foreseen 
every act, incident and thought of man in the 
past, present and future. If so, he foreordained 
or designed every act, incident and thought, for 
he could not have foreknown or foreseen any¬ 
thing but what he had designed. If, as some 
believe, he predestinated one portion of his crea¬ 
tures to eternal happiness and the remainder to 
eternal misery, he would by so doing have given 
to himself a dual nature of good and evil, for to 
create man for eternal misery—to doom him to 
such a state before he created him—would be 
evidence, nay proof, of a malignant purpose, un¬ 
just and cruel. Such a doctrine is downright 
blasphemy. 



86 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


I maintain that God had not foreknown nor 
foreseen the future acts, incidents and thoughts 
of man. Self-denial is a virtue in man, incul¬ 
cated by Christ himself. Is it not then a 
supreme virtue in God? Am I better than he? If 
he had not denied himself all knowledge of 
man’s thought and acts why did he subject him 
to his law ? If God predestined me to be 
damned or saved, there was no occasion for the 
law. The law of God is the expression of his 
will. Obedience is the homage of man’s free 
will, and were there no free will there could be no 
obedience. If God had foreknown that Adam 
and Eve would have eaten of the forbidden 
fruit, it was because he had designed them to do 
so. But why did he command them not to do 
what he had predestinated them to do? 

Religion was known and practiced from the 
days of Adam to the present time, but if the 
theory be true that some are predestinated to 
eternal bliss and others to eternal perdition, 
religion can effect no change in the ultimate 
destiny of either. 

Christ came down from heaven and assumed 
human nature that he might be one of us, shar¬ 
ing our sorrows and our wants, and loving us 
with all his divine love and sympathy. He suf- 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


87 


fered and died for us. He made salvation pos¬ 
sible to all. He willed not the death of a sinner, 
but would have him converted and live. How 
meaningless would be his teachings and his life, 
his agony and death, if one part of the human 
family is predestinated to bliss and the remain¬ 
der to eternal torment. 

God governs all things by general laws, from 
the most minute object to the largest, and from 
these laws he never swerves. They are in per¬ 
fect harmony with the universal design, and the 
little flower on the wayside is influenced by them 
as well as the sun that gives light to our planet. 
Does God have to watch every thing to see that 
the machinery is in order ?—does he have to 
know in advance every step we take lest we drop 
off this revolving earth? Are his laws insufficient 
for his will, and is his nature so very depraved 
that he creates children to inflict on them end¬ 
less misery and pain ? 

The law of God is the expression of his will; 
love the great essential principle of His Being; 
truth the inextinguishable light of his universe, 
and mercy the child of his eternal tenderness. 
Christ was the manifestation of God in human 
nature. How good he was to the poor and the 


88 


WAYSIDE} THOUGHTS. 


afflicted. Lazarus his friend died. At the grave 
“ Jesus wept.” 

In the economy of God’s government there is 
no special law, but special graces he loves to 
bestow on his children. He receives the poor, 
prodigal child who has long wandered among 
the dark places of the world, to his bosom; he 
seeks the sheep that has strayed and brings it 
back to the fold; he walks among the poor and 
despised and fills their hungry souls with good 
things; he heals all manner of diseases, and only 
he has a safe cure for the poor, broken heart. In 
his mercy, while he comdemns sin, he loves and 
pities the poor sinner. Sin cannot lessen his 
integrity, and one precious tear—one deep sigh 
of repentance—reconciles him to the offender. 
Within the human soul God is mirrored, and 
from the heart of God flows down to mankind 
streams of love and mercy. 

God is not retrogressive; he will take the soul 
covered with the leprosy of sin to his house, in 
which there are many mansions, and there 
restore it to health, and beauty. 




CHAPTER XVII 

MOUNTAIN LITERATURE. 

The world is indebted to Sir Walter Scott for 
insight of highland life and highland scenery, in 
the north of Scotland. Without it the Waverly 
novels would be incomplete, and the ill-tempered 
neglect of history would be a burning shame to 
Scottish literature. 

Scott drew aside the veil that had hidden for 
so long a time that magnificent region, and pre¬ 
sented to view, mountain fastness, hill, lake and 
torrent in all their gloomy sublimity and solitary 
beauty. The stronghold of each Celtic clan he 
invested with traditional life, and if he strongly 
depicts the fierce passions of hatred or revenge 
in the ever-faithful clansman, he does not forget 
the wild virtues fostered in his rude home. If 
there were sanguinary conflicts there was also 
heroic sacrifice of life, and whether in war or 
peace, love had its romantic episodes, free from 
all restraints but those imposed by honor and 
morality on mankind. The legends and songs 
of the highland Celts are of the first order and 
their music pathetic and tender. But such leg¬ 
ends, songs and music, belong to the children of 
the mountain and the mist. 


90 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


In West Virginia our mountain scenery is 
magnificent, and nowhere under the sun is there 
such delightful diversity of scenery. Hills and 
valleys break the monotony of the Alpine ranges, 
and numerous rivers and streams flow down to 
the lowlands on their seaward course. 

Scarcely a hundred years have passed away 
since the Indian was here lord of the soil. Blood 
flowed between the incoming white man and his 
red brother, but no historian has taken up pen 
to do honor to the pioneer and justice to the 
heroic Indian. The men and women who came 
into the mountains to make homes in those days 
were not of the common order. They had lofty 
aspirations and were strongly imbued with 
romantic ideas. They would not serve under 
taskmasters in the building up of a questionable 
civilization, healthy freedom they were deter¬ 
mined to have however it should be gained. 
Their struggle with the Indian was fierce and 
bloody, and after conquering their brave foe, 
they worked with all their might to have homes 
of their own. Among the pioneers were men 
finely educated, adventurous spirits who hailed 
with joy the birth of a new era of peace. The 
American Revolution with its magnificent 
patience and patriotism, was close behind them, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


91 


and before them the glorious mountains. I 
have said that the scenery is delightfully diver¬ 
sified—not less remarkable the diversity of char¬ 
acter among the pioneers. 

Here surely is a wide and inviting field for 
a man like Scott. The contemporaneous his¬ 
tory of Europe; the soldier of fortune coming 
out of the Revolutionary war; French exiles 
banished by the Jacobins; friendly Indians and 
local strife—these would supply plenty of 
material, more than Scott had, to weave into his 
imperishable romances. I hope to see the day 
when some devoted child of the mountains will 
gather up the fast fading traditions of the pioneer 
times. Why should we not have a Scott of our 
own, and why not have our singers ? Every 
thing in our State is suggestive of song, and 
intellect and taste are not wanting. We have 
them in abundance. We may not have a Burns 
or a Beranger, but we can have true poets of 
our own to interpret the longings of the soul 
and the feelings of the heart. 

We want a mountain literature pure as the 
air of our mountains and clear as our streams, 
racy of the soil and in harmony with the moral 
and physical character of our people. The rich¬ 
est love is sleeping in every glen and valley, and 




92 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


the mountain heights are mantled by glorious 
traditions. There is glorious work to be done 
in this field, and the workers, patient and brave, 
will enter on their labors before long. 

We want a Mountain Literature. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

LOVE YOUR ENEMIES. 

This divine commandment may justly be 
regarded as the summit of all Christian duty— 
the very heart core of religion. It is simple in 
language, and easy to be understood, but to do 
what it implies is one of the most perplexing 
rules laid down in the Gospel. One person 
says: “I can forgive my enemies, I can do 
them a friendly turn in time of need, but how to 
love them I do not know. Christ surely did not 
mean that I should love my enemies as I love 
my friends. I have tried to do this thing, but 
my heart would not respond to the effort.” 
Another regards it as impossible without some 
special grace of God to assist us. We have all, 
perhaps, our enemies—I have mine. Every¬ 
where I turn I meet them; in the church, in the 
crowded street, among my old acquaintances 
and friends. Why have I so many enemies? I 
cannot tell. Life is to me unbearable. Every 
man’s hand is raised against me, and I hate all 
mankind. I even hate myself. Coldly and 
carelessly I open the Bible at the 15th chapter of 
Mathew, and I read: “Out of the heart proceed 
evil thoughts, murders/adulteries, fornications, 



94 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


thefts, false witness, blasphemies, these are the 
things which defile a man. ” And these words 
were spoken by our Lord Jesus Christ. I close 
the book and think, can it be possible, after all, 
that the hatred I hold in my heart for my fellow 
creatures is the creation of my own perverse will? 

St. Paul tells us that our* bodies are temples 
of the Holy Ghost, but the Divine Spirit will not 
dwell in a defiled temple. A chronic dyspeptic 
sees but little in nature to please him, but heal 
him of his infirmity, and from the dew-drop, 
aflame with the light of the morning sun, to 
earth, sky and ocean, his soul goes up in admira¬ 
tion and gratitude to God. So it is with the 
man whose heart is defiled by sin. Everything 
is dark and fearful to him—no outstretched 
hand to lead him to the light. Let him cleanse 
thoroughly his heart, and the Spirit of God will 
take possession of it, and love, peace, and good¬ 
ness will come to him and abide with him for¬ 
ever. He goes out among his kind, and in 
church, city or highway, he cannot find an 
enemy. The enemy of his life—the destroyer 
of his peace was in his own heart. He has put 
on the new man and now walks abroad an eman¬ 
cipated child of God. “Love your enemies.” 
To do so we must have love in the heart, and 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


95 


this we cannot have as long as evil thoughts pos¬ 
sess it. When evil departs love will reign 
supreme. As it is with the individual so is it 
with society at large, and with nations. Society 
cleansed and purified, would enjoy peace and 
good will, and this can be accomplished by moral 
association and humble endeavor. God is ever 
willing to assist us. How beautiful life would be 
in such a state! How near to heaven! Sim¬ 
plicity and truth would go hand in hand, and 
religion would build up in heart and home fit 
temples for the Holy Ghost. 

Were nations to cleanse themselves of their 
defilements of pride, coveteousness and false 
witness, there would be no more war, tyranny 
would be at an end and industry be free. Huge 
armaments would not be needed, for the Christian 
rule of life would usher in the universal reign of 
love and truth. Every nation has its enemy 
within itself, and when that enemy is vanquished, 
peace and good will shall make life a blessingto all. 



CHAPTER XIX 


THE BEAM AND THE MOTE. 

Of all the simple lessons taught by our Lord 
Jesus Christ there is not one so immediate and 
far reaching as that of the beam and the mote. 
It applies as closely and forcibly to nations as to 
individuals, and ought be used as a brake on the 
fast wheels of our delirious progress. National 
pride is not considerate, and while boastful of 
its own superiority, it never fails on a plausible 
occasion to find fault with other nations. It is 
unjust to those more moral and intelligent per¬ 
haps than itself, to cover up its own defections 
while violently exposing the errors of others. 
It should have taken the beam out of its own 
eye before bothering about the mote in the eye 
of a neighbor. In America we are willing to 
make any sacrifice for humanity abroad, but we 
neglect or forget the urgent calls of humanity at 
home. It is not respectable to boast of having 
a Christian civilization, while murder, foul and 
hideous, has an hourly record in the public press, 
and domestic bliss is poisoned by the breath of 
wanton impurity. The beam and the mote test 
might be fairly applied here. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


97 


Materialism is a growing evil at war against 
the good, the pure and the true in human life. 
Is not this beam large enough to blind us, and 
should we not take it out before we go a mote 
hunting ? Materialism is the foster mother of 
all crime; it is the monstrous evil from which 
springs our false civilization. It is the beam that 
obscures the vision of the soul and makes the 
world around us so very dark. We must pluck 
it out and take counsel with the ‘ ‘ man of sor¬ 
rows, ” Christ, and He will give us light and 
peace. 

In the Christian churches the beam and the 
mote give work to many. In truth it is there 
the mote-finding industry is carried to almost 
perfection. One church cannot see the beam 
in its own eye, because of the dreadful mote in 
the eye of another church. The doctrinal beam 
seems to be firmly fixed in the theological eye,, 
and a great deal of pious energy is spent in 
devising means to rid the world of its mote. Every 
church member in good orthodox standing is a 
mote hunter who carries his beam into every 
nook and corner in search of a mote. 

Every community has its little inquisition. 
One sister has discovered that another sister 
has“been guilty of an indiscretion. The moral- 


98 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


focussed microscope is placed over it, and the 
offense is branded as a great sin. The dear 
beam-eyed sister has struck a mote, and now 
piously enjoys her victory. The beamers are 
all sanctified, and any one not up to their stand¬ 
ard of perfection is cut to pieces in this world 
and doomed to eternal wrath in the world to 
come. “Cast the beam out of thine own eye,” 
my good sisters and brothers, and then, but not 
till then, will you be able to see the mote in the 
eye of another. “Where are thine accusers ? ” 
asked Christ of the poor woman taken in adultry. 
‘ ‘ I have none, Master, ” she answered. ‘ ‘ Neither 
do I accuse thee, ” said he, ‘ ‘ go thy way and sin 
no more.” There was no beam in his eye—he 
was not looking for motes. A fallen sister or 
brother, among the sanctified beamers, would 
find no compassion—no mercy. The hypocrites 
would drag down God from his throne, and des¬ 
troy love, truth and the compassionate charity 
of Christ. In every community there are beam¬ 
eyed wretches, day and night watching every 
act, and listening to every word they see or 
hear that they may accuse a neighbor before a 
court or church of having a mote in the eye. 
How many meek-eyed church women gad from 
house to house to procure news of a sister’s 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 99 

weakiness or shame ! ‘ ‘ Cast the beam out of 

thine own eye, ” ye hypocrites—cast out the devil 
from your hearts, and leave those ye would ruin 
and disgrace to kind friends and the mercy of 
God. 

It is among the politicians, the beamer is in 
all his glory. In a campaign each candidate is 
busy looking for a mote in his opponent’s eye or 

heart, and has mercenaries employed to search 
family records for evidence of shame. The 

presidential candidate has to run the gauntlet, 
but leaves the filthy work of exhumation to his 
agents. Every speck of moral infirmity is hunted 
up and the idiotic law of heredity is flaunted 
before a debauched public. The beam-eyed 
partizans are all patriotic. Noble blood that 
has flown down from some savage, human blood¬ 
hound of feudalism is often claimed for a candi¬ 
date in our democratic republic, and if he has been 
even a recalcitrant member of a church, his mob 
followers canonize him a saint. Every demi- 
goguehas a moral misroscope to magnify the most 
minute fault—the almost unperceptible mote 
descovered under the eyelid of his master’s 
opponent. Will society ever get rid of those 
beam-eyed nuisances ? “Cast the beam out of 
thine own eye,” ye fools and “do unto others as 
ye would that they should do unto you.” 


1 L. of C. 


CHAPTER XX. 


RELIGION. 

In every age the religious idea has had a pre¬ 
dominant place in the human mind* The image 
and likeness in which we were created hold the 
reflection of the supreme intelligence. As there 
are various ideals of God, so there are various 
forms and modes of religion. That which has 
the clearest, deepest spirituality must be regarded 
as the truest. 

When Christ came he founded a spiritual or 
invisible church with a temporal or visible church. 
The church spiritual is the divine law of love. 
Adoration, goodness and truth, and these are the 
constituent elements of true religion. We can 
not be followers of Christ unless we embrace these 
principles embodied in the divine law. The first 
lesson taught us by Christ was humility, and it 
is the first virtue we should practically adopt, 
for without it, religion can have no safeguard 
against the assaults of rebellious pride and aggres¬ 
sive ignorance. Religion shows the way to the 
perfect life above. It is the science of the soul, 
learned in the school of contemplation and prayer. 
It is a growth—a beautiful development of all 
the graces and virtues, and is attained by self- 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


101 


denial and consecration of heart and soul to God. 

We received from Christ all the essential prin¬ 
ciples of religion in our relation to God and to 
our neighbor. He brought down to us from the 
sacred heart of love its sweet ministering angel 
—charity—and in himself established the brother¬ 
hood of man. He assumed human nature that 
he might unite it with the divine nature, and 
hence it is that the divine love and the human 
love are inseparable, and that a “human life is a 
divine life.” We must follow Christ for he only 
is “the way, the truth and the life.” We must 
do as he did, minister to each other in our afflic¬ 
tions and in our poverty, and bury selfishness 
and pride at the foot of the cross. ‘ ‘If ye love 
not your brother whom ye have seen, how can 
ye love God whom ye have not seen?” Love is 
the most effective force of true religion, in morally 
elevating mankind, and establishing the king¬ 
dom of Christ in this world. We must have love 
to conquer self, and unless we conquer self we 
cannot win the peace and blessing of God. 

The greatest enemy to religion is intellectual 
pride. From it comes atheism, agnosticism and 
materialism, and from it also emanate so many 
churches, no two agreeing, and all claiming the 
Bible as their origin and authority. Among these 



102 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


organizations it is hard to find a resting place for 
the soul. If the church of Christ exists—and I 
firmly believe it does—where is it to be found? 
I answer, wherever the Spirit of God exists. 
Wherever his divine teaching in its simple truth 
is accepted as all-sufficient. Wherever his 
humility and obedience are practiced, and blessed 
charity abounds. There and only there the 
Church of Christ exists. “In vain do we call 
ourselves Christians if we follow not Christ/’ 
Where two or three are gathered together in the 
Master’s name—a little congregation of his 
church—he is there in the midst of them. If 
every family were consecrated to God, each 
would be, in itself, a living branch of the great 
Church of Christ. 

We are having too much of speculative the¬ 
ology—entirely too much of uneducated opinion 
forced on us as infallible truth. In all the 
churches, good zealous souls are reaching for the 
light—reaching up to the blue sky for a divine 
flame to go before them on their journey across 
the wilderness of life. Not there my friends will 
you find it, not there. The light to guide us is 
in the heart, if we follow the simple rules laid 
down in the gospel by Jesus Christ. 

Doctrine or creed is not above the law of God, 





WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


103 


and no decree issuing from man can circumscribe 
the mind of God in his plan of salvation. Nor 
can love, truth and justice yield to the iniquitous 
demands of social depravity. Religion cannot 
be strangled, nor will it surrender under any 
pressure to a false philosophy one spark of its 
divine flame. 

Society needs a spiritual lustration, and the 
churches would not suffer any loss in efficiency 
or character by adopting the humility and meek¬ 
ness of Christ. A change—a reformation, is 
needed, but it is in the family it must be begun. 
The family is the citadel of the church. Relig¬ 
ion and the world are too closely mixed up by 
some of our theological teachers—and the sooner 
they are divorced the better for the world and 
for religion. Religion pure and undefiled is the 
Rock of Ages on which society can safely rest all 
its hopes and all its heavenward aspirations. 





CHAPTER XXI 

CIVIL GOVERMENT AND THE CHURCH. 

The institution of civil government is of divine 
origin, its first formation being the family order. 
The family springs from the marriage-law and 
marriage was first instituted by Almighty God. 

The people are not the source of all legitimate 
political power, for they are responsible to God 
for their conduct to each other, and government 
is also responsible to him for the manner in 
which it governs the people. The vox populi is 
not the vox dei, unless it is truthful and decent. 
Neither are majorities always right. Minorities, 
so often forced to submit, are in most cases right 
in judgment and principles. “Numbers,” says a 
serious thinker, ‘ ‘do not decide truth, and one 
with God is a majority.” 

The modern liberal idea that the church 
should have nothing to do with government is 
not correct. The church can claim only its 
divine right. Its mission embraces all orders of 
society and every duty imposed on man by the 
authority of God. Its principles tend to keep 
the public concience clean, and its maxims are 
for the guidance and instruction of all. While 
politics should be confined within proper limits 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


105 


the church must have liberty to promote the 
cause of justice by holding up to view, and im¬ 
pressing on the public mind the law of God. 

If civil government would conform itself to 
the teachings of the church, wrong-doing would 

not be tolerated and rebellion against legitimate 
authority would be impossible. It is evident to 
reason that any human law at variance with the 
law of God, must be essentially wrong in its 
nature and direful in its results. 

The church ought to be in close touch with the 
people, for if the people are honest, moral good 
the government is sure to be honest, moral, and 
gool also. One reflects the other. How very 
necessary that the church should have perfect 
control of the public conscience, enobling and 
purifying every thought and action. If things 
were so established, pride could make no degrad¬ 
ing discriminations; covetousness would not 
override the equities of God by oppressing the 
poor and defrauding the laborer of his wages, 
and we would have none of those fearful erup¬ 
tions, between labor and capital that menace the 
peace and safety of society. Will we live to see 
such a change—to see the law of God honored 
and respected by the law-making power of the 
land ? Again I insist that civil government will 



106 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


have a very vicious influence unless brought in 
harmony with the law of God. One can plainly 
see that without practical respect for the church 
and the law of God society is hurrying on to the 
fearful whirlpool of anarchy. 

The church should have no place in politics, 
but should be above all political interests con¬ 
trolling the law making power by the spirit and 
teachings of the Gospel. God first and all the 
time. God in government, in society, in the 
family and in every heart. Without Him there 
can be no light, no love, no justice, no goodness. 
Reason it insufficient for the making of laws, 
without divine wisdom to guide and instruct it. 
Where truth is not honored there can be no 
justice, and God is the fountain of all truth 
and justice. Apart from Him there can be no 
safety. His love embraces all; his mercy reaches 
every soul, and sorrow touched by his spirit is 
glorified by the agonized love of Calvary. 



CHAPTER XXII 

ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. 

There is no dogma of what may be termed 
orthodox Christianity more emphatically 
insisted on than eternal punishment, and none 
more irrational when fairly investigated. The 
antiquity of the dogma cannot be disputed. It 
existed in paganism before Christianity was 
introduced, and it is a cardinal principle of pag¬ 
anism in many countries today. 

Faith informs us that He who created all 
things, from whose idea the universe was fash¬ 
ioned, is our Father and our God; that Jesus 
Christ is his only begotten Son, who together 
with the Holy Ghost, are one indivisible and 
eternal. The heathen in his dark, depraved 
condition has a shadowy idea of a supreme 
being. He carves in wood or other material a 
likeness of his ideal god to which he renders 
homage. Sometimes this ideal is a monster, 
fierce and implacable, filthy and debased. All 
the baseness of his nature he transfers to this 
blind and lifeless monstrosity. It was said by a 
deep thinker that “by the law of association the 
material image calls up the mental idea, and the 
mental idea calls for the material image.” The 


108 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


heathen may be said to be the creator of his 
god, but in truth he is only groping in the dark 
for the pure ideal, Almighty God. 

It is to be regretted that so many—so very 
many, who openly profess faith in Christ are 
not much more enlightened than the heathen. 
A pure-minded, humble Christian who possesses 
the three cardinal virtues, faith, hope and 
charity, firmly believes that God is essential 
to love. He regards him as a tender, patient 
Father, all purity and goodness; all love and 
mercy. When the heart is impure it cares only 
for impurity. When pride takes hold of a man 
the humility of Christ leaves him. When he 
holds in his heart ill-will or hatred, he gives to 
his idea of God all the very horrible qualities he 
possesses; and so it is that so many regard our 
loving Father as a malignant being who delights 
in torturing and mercilessly ruling his creatures 
in this world and in a world to come. When 
the heart is pure and humble, loving and gentle, 
God appears in all the glory of his love and all 
the sweet tenderness of his mercy. 

The figurative language of the Scriptures is 
often taken in a literal sense, and this has been 
the source of much contradiction and contention 
in the churches. Take the case of God’s hatred 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


109 


of sin, as metaphorically expressed by Christ, as 
a true illustration. The people of Judea—of all 
Syria—could not in the days of Christ be igno¬ 
rant of Roman mythology, and therefore Tar¬ 
tarus afforded a most fearful picture of punish¬ 
ment. “The wicked shall go into everlasting 
fire. ” So said Christ but did he not also say, 
“ they shall be cast into outer darkness.” While 
“eternal fire ” is a direful picture of extreme 
heat, “outer darkness ” is a fearful picture of 
extreme cold. The world will come to an end, 
after that event—What ? God is a spirit, infin¬ 
ite, the soul is an immortal spirit. The body 
will go into its natural dust. “We are sown a 
corruptible body,” sa} r s Paul, “we shall rise an 
incorruptible body. We are sown a natural 
body, we shall rise a spiritual body. ” Then the 
spirit will exist for bliss or torment, but how can 
a material fire affect an immaterial essence ? 
Can I burn an idea—a thought ? But why an 
eternal punishment ? The answer of orthodox 
theologians is: “ To satisfy infinite justice. As 
every violation of the divine law is an offense 
against the majesty of God, so the punishment 
of the offender must be of eternal duration.” A 
fair and impartial consideration of this thesis 


110 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


will show that it is logically at variance with the 
spirit of divine justice. 

God is infinitely perfect, then how can any 
offense of mine affect his integrity or do him any 
injury ? How can I, a poor creature called into 
existence by his Almighty will, lessen in any way 
his liberty, love, truth, goodness or excellence ? 
I commit a great offense against the law of my 
creator, and for so doing I am denounced as his 
enemy. How will he treat his enemies. Did 
he not command me to love my enemies. It is 
surely a great virtue to do so, and must it not be a 
supreme virtue in God to love the poor sinner? 
God takes no revenge. He is no merciless 
tyrant, but a Father of infinite love and infinite 
mercy. No greater sin can be committed against 
the law of God than this dark and hideous doc¬ 
trine of eternal punishment. It has turned tens 
of thousands of people from Christianity into 
infidelity—from the worship of the true God to 
absolute denial of him—of him as represented 
by the orthodox pietists. The hell of the 
creeds into which sinners are hurled after death 
is all fire forever burning—no cessation—no 
respite, burning, burning, forever and forever. 
And this is divine justice. Is God’s compas¬ 
sionate love dead when I die ? Is his mercy at 




wayside: thoughts. 


Ill 


end when I go from here ? Nay, nay, he can 
no more turn love and mercy from their course 
than he can annihilate himself. Man, with all 
his moral imperfections, in every country has a 
compassionate feeling for the poor and the 
afflicted. The leper, unclean by the law of 
Moses, has an asylum in which human loye 
sacrifices life even to make his condition as com¬ 
fortable as possible. Will the monstrous doc¬ 
trine be believed that God has no pity, no sym¬ 
pathy for the soul covered with the leprosy of 
sin? “There are many mansions in my 
Fathers House.’' So we are informed by the 
meek and tender-hearted Christ. “No, no,” 
exclaimed our pharisees; there are but two man¬ 
sions—heaven for the saint and hell for the 
sinner. ” 

This doctrine of eternal punishment, has been 
for centuries spreading wreck and ruin over the 
world. A God of revenge, of malignant pur¬ 
pose, has been trampling on the best hopes and 
highest aspiration of mankind. This horrible 

nightmare is rising from the opprest soul of the 

• 

world and we are gradually becoming ac¬ 
quainted with the God of infinite truth, infinite 
love and infinite mercy, the only God, Lord and 
creator of all things. Some of the firmest believ- 


112 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


ers in eternal punishment, in peace or war, were 
the most cruel monsters that ever bore human 
form. Such we have today in the world, but 
the advent of a brighter day will dispel the hor¬ 
rible phantom from the world. 

Death gives to the earth the body, and takes 
the soul to the presence of God. He has 
room enough for saint and sinner. A being 
infinitely perfect cannot be retrogressive. The 
greatest pleasure that God can enjoy is in the 
exercise of his love and mercy. On the great¬ 
est sinner he will bestow the most compassion¬ 
ate care, and every star that has fallen from its 
orbit will be lifted up into the firmanent of glory. 
The soul-beautiful spirit of intelligence will have 
free access at the pure fountain of divine 
truth and to the Holy of Holies where love and 
mercy reign in the bosom of God. 

If we but make room in our minds for pure 
thoughts—thoughts replete with the beauty of 
charity, and the loving kindness left us by 
Christ, God will be in our hearts all love and 
mercy. O, there is another life beyond this, 
where sin will not be known, and the child of 
darkness here will be led into the light to begin 
another life in heaven. We shall have ample 
opportunity to make up for lost time. He who 


v 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


113 


said: “ Love your enemy,” never had and never 
will have an enemy. Let us not kick from our 
doors a fallen sister. She has still a place, and 
will forever have it, at the feet of Jesus. Repulse 
not an erring brother with scorn, Christ died for 
him as well as for you. We have all to take 
with us from this world the memory of our trans¬ 
gressions, and nothing can be hidden from God. 

Let us cast from us the “hangman’s whip.” 
Fear has failed. Love, the love of God, is theme 
vast enough for earth and for heaven. Love at 
Bethlehem. Love at Nazareth and love triumph¬ 
ant on the Cross. We need moral courage to 
destroy pagan principles, and clean out the 
defiled temple of Christian love. Every innova¬ 
tion of man should be separated from religion. 
The teachings of Christ are sufficient for all. 
“Love one another as I have loved you.” That 
is the supreme law, not only on earth, but in 
heaven, throughout the great universe, through 
all time and in eternity. 

The doctrine of eternal punishment should 
have no place in our hearts, our homes or our 
churches. It is an insult to truth, a foul discord 
that jars on the ears of the angels in heaven. 
Away with it, and in its stead let love and truth 

and goodness be preached and practiced. Thus 

8 


114 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


will millions be induced to accept the true 
gospel; and religion, instead of being an agent of 
coercion, will be the sacred ark of our covenant 
with God. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

WHAT FORM OF GOVERNMENT IS BEST? 

This is indeed a question of great importance 
that necessarily requires serious consideration. 
I believe that a good humane system of govern¬ 
ment is best adapted to the healthy growth of 
a pure civilization. But if government be the 
creature of the popular will, it is sure to be vari¬ 
able, inconsistant and uncertain as the will that 
created it. The living principle of true govern¬ 
ment is derived from God, and was established 
in the first foundation of society. It must 
be permanent because founded on immutable 
justice and guided by divine truth. The 
machinery may fall to pieces, but the principle 
remains. England may be rent by an upheavel 
of the masses tomorrow, the House of Lords 
abolished, and the House of Common be in 
possession of the most depraved class of her peo¬ 
ple, but the basic principle of her government 
would survive the wreck. The great organ¬ 
ized body of the Christian church may be torn 
into fragments by communist or nihilist, but 
the spirit of the church would rise from the 
desolation with increased power and more mar¬ 
velous light than ever. 


116 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


The legislative department of government 
should be at all time controlled by the most in¬ 
telligent and moral citizens, and in the election 
of legislator, or other officer, a limited franchise 
defined by social standing and character, would 
be best and safest. The right of suffrage is a 
sacred right when duly honored, but when 
abused it is a menacing danger. “Popular 
Sovereignty ” is a fine phrase, and ‘ ‘ vox populi 
—vox Dei” still finer, but one is a silly burlesque 
and the other an impious lie. The trite saying 
of Lincoln that ‘ ‘ the people are not always 
wrong,” is now used as a political axiom, but it 
is nevertheless a well-known fact that they are 
not always right. Two great political parties are 
opposed to each other on issues of grave impor¬ 
tance—of such importance as to involve the 
safety of our institutions. In each the worst 
element controls, and honor and duty are lost 
in the wild, mad strife for party supremacy; and 
this is why political corruption is widespread, 
permeating the halls of legislation and the low¬ 
est and highest tribunals of justice. Every 
where one meets the partizan, but where is the 
patriot ? The democrat of today bears the 
same relation to the old-time Jeffersonian demo¬ 
crat that our millionaire Christians do to the 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


117 


Christians of the Apostolic days. The repub¬ 
lican of today bears the same relation to the 
father of republicanism—Abraham Lincoln— 
than a Mormon missionary does to St. Paul. 
It was Lord Bryon who said, “Trust not the 
Franks, they have a king who buys and sells. ” 
Neither can a people be trusted who buy and 
sell the franchise that ought be cherished as 
dearly as life itself. 

If a people are not capable of governing them¬ 
selves, they must be governed by others, and 
once the scepter departs from them, it will never 
return. The true principle of government can 
not be resigned, bought or sold. We need just 
laws and a strong arm to enforce them. Society 
must enjoy rational freedom, security of life and 
property, and peaceful happy homes. These 
with education and religion—and conscience free 
as the light of heaven—are all it can require. 
These would protect public morals and public 
decency. 

The great overshadowing evil of our repub¬ 
lic is individual liberty. This is in its nature 
wrong, for popular liberty in its indiscriminate 
justice should embrace all, and ought to be enough 
for all. Individual liberty ought not extend 
beyond individual rights, but when it invades 




118 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


the public domain, and one man assails the 
rights or liberty of another man, it is manifestly 
an evil that should be utterly destroyed. Individ¬ 
ual liberty is now an established fact, and 
special legislation the agency it employs to des¬ 
troys public equity and that spirit of fraternity, 
on which only a republican form of government 
can exist. 

England, to her honor be it said, has been 
gradually coming out from feudalism, and giving 
to her people the fullest measure of constitutional 
government. Under her monarchical system, 
rich and poor are ruled alike, and all classes are 
so fairly adjusted that confusion never disturbs 
the general peace. How is it with us ? Thirty 
odd years age we cast aside as worthless the 
simple manners and customs of our fathers— 
that clear simplicity of thought and brotherly 
love-which pervaded our government and peo¬ 
ple. We strangled in the throes of civil war the 
spirit of liberty, gave to individual power the 
prerogatives of government and created a plutoc¬ 
racy. The “sovereign people” committed 
national suicide, and they who fought for the 
freedom of others basely enslaved themselves 
and their families. England is rising up to 
greater glory, and we, a republic, a little over a 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


119 


hundred years old, are going down to national 
ruin. If a people are not capable of governing 
themselves, they must be governed by others. 
We need a government that will give us just 
laws, and be strong enough to enforce them for 
the common good. Plutocracy and anarchy—the 
red-mouthed anarchy and the anarchy dressed 
in fine purple and gold—are the twin evils now 
threatening the life and honor of society. 

England is growing young, common sense and 
humanity control her councils, and her constitu¬ 
tional monarchical system is nearer being perfect 
than any other system of modern times. She 
is growing young, because justice, truth and 
honor give to her perfect health and magnificent 
energy. Individual liberty she has subordinated 
to the common good. She has left her faults 
behind her in the gray cemetery of the past. 

“The people,” says Spaulding, “are a hydra¬ 
headed monster” and such they will continue to 
be until heart and intellect are educated, until a 
government is theirs that can firmly restrain 
public evil and regulate public duty by the laws 
of God. 

The government founded by the revolutionary 
sages and patriots is no more. If another can 


120 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


be established from the cold scoria lying around, 
let it be such a one as will foster virtue and give 
to society the blessings of peace, intelligence 
and prosperity. 




CHAPTER XXIV 


THE FARM AND FARM HOME. 

The basis of national prosperity is the land, 
and the basis of industrial economy is the farm. 
Society cannot exist without the product of land 
and labor united. Farming was the first occu¬ 
pation of man, and is the safest one at present. 
It will continue to be the only independent mode 
of life as long as man has to procure his daily 
bread. From the primitive system of cultivat¬ 
ing the land there has been a development, and 
the chemical forces of nature are now used to 
make the soil more prolific and labor less severe. 
Nature is inexhaustible and intelligent, patient 
endeavor is discovering bountiful resources here¬ 
tofore unknown, The farm in itself is a little 
republic that requires rules of government easy 
and pleasant to its citizens. It should be 
arranged in harmony with its surroundings, and 
laid out so as to have a fine distribution of light 
and shade. A farm without a farm-house would 
be devoid of those necessary elements of life, 
love, association, industry and peace. In it. the 
family secures itself from the curse of indolence. 
Obedience to parental authority is the living 


122 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


spring of its happiness. A farm home may be 
a slow school of progressive knowledge, but it is 
always sure, and every lesson learned brings 
purer thought and brighter hope to life. 

On the farm children are brought into close 
contact with nature. The bright stream and 
the wild flower, on hill side or forest dell, have 
loving messages for the heart of childhood. The 
small birds sing for them, and the first peep of 
early corn—the first break in the garden bed 
caused by some tender plant forcing its way to 
the light, fill the young mind with pleasure and 
gratitude. To children, the seasons are delight¬ 
ful changes, each appropriate to special work in 
the economy of nature. Around the farm house 
sympathy has free exercise. The horse, loved 
for his patient labor, and by young and old, the 
poor animal is spoken to as a dear friend, and 
tenderly caressed. The cow morning and 
evening receives kind attention, and compen¬ 
sates her friends with a generous down-flow of 
good milk. The hen leads out her chickens to 
be seen and fed, and clucks her thanks to her 
protectors. The dog enjoys the happiness of 
all, and barks and frolics around the lot with 
wildest glee. Sympathy for these dumb animals 
goes out to all livimg objects of our care and 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


123 


becomes in the human heart the source of kindly 
deeds and blessed charity. Such are a few of 
the duties and pleasures that belong to farm- 
home life, and from such a life come the noblest 
manhood and purest womanhood of the world. 

In the farm home the domestic virtues are 
fondly cherished. The mother instils into the 
hearts of her children a simple knowledge of 
God, and of the duties He demands from all 
his creatures. To Him is attributed all bless¬ 
ings and favors; and in the Bible those precious 
maxims of divine wisdom that fell from the soul 
of Christ are lovingly pondered. Labor is wor¬ 
ship, and God the beginning and end of every 
thought, word and act. Education is not neg¬ 
lected. Such a practical education as is neces¬ 
sary and useful. A large library is not required 
in a farm home. A few well chosen books are 
better than a thousand which would do more 
harm than good. It is I think in his introduc- 
to “ Waverly” that Sir Walter Scott speaks of 
those who, in his day, could not afford to have 
a large library; they read few books, each good, 
studied them deeply, and were well known for 
their sound knowledge and clear intelligence. 
Above and before all else, in the farm house, 
pure thoughts, good manners and kindly words 


124 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


can be freely practiced. These virtues well out 
from a mothers love, and never can be found, 
if lost, but in her heart or at her grave. Such 
farms and farm homes were common in this 
republic up to the great war of secession, and 
could the American people have foreseen the 
calamitous results of that war, it would never 
have taken place. Order, frugality and 
economy were despised in the craze of victory. 
A change came over the country, and young 
people, dazzled by the extravagance and vuglar 
display of the wealthy, would no longer brook 
the simple healthy comforts of the old farm- 
home life. They looked on farm labor as a 
curse, and tens of thousands rushed from happy 
country homes to seek fortunes in the cities. 

FORTUNE SEEKERS. 

It is a cause of deep regret that many noted 
men in the advocacy of farm life, never fail to 
parade the names of distinguished men who had 
gone out from the farm, taking with them pure 
minds and clean hands, and won fame or wealth 
in the great centres of population. The surface 
view of their lives is very interesting, but if the 
dark, crooked ways they had trod could have 
been seen, their fame would be degradation and 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


125 


their wealth accursed dross. After the war of 
secession, young men could be seen in the vil¬ 
lages and towns dressed in the approved style 
of the day. They would not touch an imple¬ 
ment of labor, what they had been accustomed 
to, and fell by degrees into the respectable vices 
then in vogue. They discussed politics on the 
streets and in the saloons, forget the chaste 
language of home, and looked on religion as a 
delusion befitting senility and ignorance. They 
branched out after a time from those places 
where they had been so long and well known, 
and the murderer and the burglar were plying 
their vocations in every hole and corner of the 
land. Some got offices as a reward of venality, 
and wore out h’fe in debasing excesses. O, how 
often did the old dear farm-home come on wings 
of tortured memory to their minds ! How often 
did the sweet innocence of childhood bring to 
their cold, cold hearts, the green fields, the orch- 
chard, and the old play grounds, so far and far 
away in the dead past! 

Thousands made their way to the city—the 
Mecca of their hopes. There they would see 
the farm-boy millionaire, and might be able to 
make an acquaintance with some nabob who 
hoed his row in home-spun. They wandered 


126 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


through thoroughfare and bystreet, lost in the 
vast wilderness of humanity—no friendly smile, 
no kindly word to greet them. They drifted from 
one place to another, from the cheap hotel to 
the cheap lodging house of the slums, and soon 
became acquainted with those in the low dives 
of great cities, who from hungry hope went 
down in the lowest depths of depravity. Their 
associates were henceforth the thieves, the bur¬ 
glars, the night footpads, and the most aband¬ 
oned prostitutes. For one who has made his 
way to respectable independence, one hundred 
have been lost in the lowest abysses of crime 
and wretchedness. 

Even in the slums, visions of home come to 
the outcast—the farm home so peaceful and 
happy; the honest, thrifty, noble father; the 
devoted, tender-hearted mother, and the fair, 
sweet sister. There they are before him now. 
He hears his mother’s voice beseeching God to 
save her poor boy. Her wild eyes are fixed in 
agony on him, and every falling tear is dried up 
on his callous heart. He compares the purity 
of his sister with the gross passions of the 
debased creature—the sharer of his sin and 
shame. He tries to shut out the vision from his 
soul, but the song of the home stream, the warb- 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


127 


ling of the birds and the voices of loved ones— 
still loved by him—he cannot shut out from the 
ear of his weeping soul. This is no picture 
painted by the imagination, but an every day 
reality. 

In like manner have young women wandered 
away from home to satisfy the cravings of pride. 
Fashion and folly have lured them on, and they 
gave up to sinful pleasure, the grace and man¬ 
ners and the priceless purity, once their glory, 
and became a disgrace to womanhood and a 
curse to society. The city morgue has received 
many of the poor deceived victims of despair, 
and the potter’s field gave them a place of rest. 

If our young men and young women of the 
present day would consider—just think of all the 
beauty and home-love of farm life; if they 
would lay down the high head and the silly, 
haughty look, and take the teachings of Christ 
as their guide, the farm-home life would be to 
them and to society a great blessing. 

There are, I am sorry to say, parents who 
think that youth should be denied all pleasure, 
but simple pleasure so congenial to the farm 
home is necessary to the heart of youth as sun¬ 
light to the flower or rain to the parched earth. 
Common sense ought not be outlawed by grim 


128 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


severity or hollow-hearted phariseeism. The 
laugh and song are unerring signs of a pure, 
good heart and one may as well try to prevent 
the birds from singing as to shut out joy from 
the longing soul of youth. A cheerful heart 
lightens labor, and the farm home surrounded 
by joyful nature ought not be turned into a place 
of shadows, silent and lifeless as the grave. If 
youth is denied rational pleasure at home it is 
apt to seek for it elsewhere. 

The great duty now is to get our young men 
to see the folly of their ways, and show them 
that manhood can be best developed by honest 
labor—to get our young women to look at farm 
home work in its proper light, and they will 
fieely yield to these gentle influences and to the 
first home-loving impulse of the heart. 

Let farmers institutes be established all over 
the country for men and women, in which 
every essential principle may be discussed; keep 
such institutes from being turned into religious 
convocations, and let no oath or test be admis- 
sable. Every thing should be free and open. 

Save our young men and young women; saved 
the farm-homes of the country from ruin and 
make them attractive and lovable. Consecrate 
your labors to God and your country, and God, 
your country and prosperity will bless you. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

DUTY. 


No organization of society can approach com¬ 
pletion without being fully consecrated to 
Almighty God. Without a sure foundation it 
can not last and He is the rock on which it can 
securely stand through every storm, for all time. 
We owe to God our first allegiance. He is our 
Father and we are his children. He can exist 
without society, but society can not exist with¬ 
out Him. In the divine economy, man has an 
important part to act, and for his guidance and 
conduct God has given to him conscience and 
the law. 

Right and duty are correlative terms, and one 
cannot be respected where the other is ; 
neglected. Right has no obligatory claim but 
what it derives from duty. Society can not exist 
without law, and law requires obedience, other¬ 
wise it can have no binding force on conscience. 
Obedience to law is a primary principle and 
must be volantarily rendered. Mutual interests 
demand mutual support, and therefore every 
member of society is bound to contribute to the 
general good. Each member owes to every 

9 


130 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


other member various acts of kindness, and 
where these are neglected a grevious wrong is 
done to the commonweal. 

For the common good, then, man has duties 
to perform, and these he can not shirk as long as 
he has a place in society. From the evasion 
of these duties spring those distinctions, which 
are in themselves a prodigious evil, and it so 
occurs that all such distinctions grow to danger¬ 
ous proportions by the inherent force of diso¬ 
bedience. Any violation of the laws of society— 
any neglect of duty by any member of it, is also 
a violation of the law of God. 

But man has other duties to perform. He 
must love God, and his neighbor as himself. It 
is incumbent on him to assist in the building of 
churches, to protect divine worship, and attend 
it on the Sabbath, and encourage the Sabbath 
school every way in his power. He is bound to 
pay due respect to those who may not agree 
with him in dogma or tenet, for God gives but 
little attention to theological differences, so that 
the law of charity be fulfilled with clean, pure 
intentions. Another duty of serious importance 
is to guard youth from the pernicious use of bad 
books and bad company. Education is a prin¬ 
ciple that every man and woman ought regard 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


131 


with loving consideration, and advocate its 
interests as best they can. Such duties as these 
bestow imperishable rewards, not only in this 
world, but in the world to come. Bad books 
are deadly poison to innocent minds and pure 
young hearts, and as long as the law of the land 
takes no cognizance of the publication of such 
lewd literature, it behooves families and churches 
as well as individuals to protect themselves from 
such insidious enemies of morality and honor. 

A good man will love his neighbor as himself. 
He will help the poor and the afflicted. God 
gives freely to us and he requires that we freely 
give to one another. The stricken children of 
his love it is our duty to succor. In such works 
of mercy there is a solace experienced by the 
friend who bestows and the friend who receives, 
that compensates the one and makes happy the 
other. Let us see that the widow suffers not, nor 
let her children go to bed hungry. Duty guides 
to her humble home, and there one may see 
what can not be seen in the palace of the King, 
Charity leading in the pitying angel of God’s 
mercy. Take that fallen creature by the 
hand, and whisper to her sad, sad soul the 
blessed name of mother, and save one tear of 
the penitent—it will open the gate of heaven 


132 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


when all else may fail. In yonder house a man is 
dying of fever—his dead wife is yet scarcely cold. 
Speak to him gently—speak to him as Christ 
would speak. Point out the way to the depart¬ 
ing soul; now take the orphans to your bosom 
and procure for them a home—a home with 
Christ. These are our duties—the duties we 
owe to our Father God and to our brother man. 
If we had no such duties to perform as these, 
the soul would go blind, the heart be cold and 
callous, there would be no blue sky above and 
no flowers on the earth to whisper to us of heaven. 

In his neighborly association man has grave 
duties to perform. Covetousness has been 
denounced by St. Paul as idolatry, and this 
idea had been in the mind of Christ when he 
said: “Where your treasure is there is your 
heart also.” The great sin of the world is cove¬ 
tousness. One man covets what belongs to 
another man, and in some way tries to defraud 
him. Law is too often an abettor in the crime, 
and will continue to be so as long as legislation 
is committed by the popular will to incapable, 
ill-disposed persons. Litigation is a curse and 
should by all honest means be avoided. What 
good can be expected by law as long as slander, 
backbiting and calumny are used in opposition 




f 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 133 

to charity and truth ? In these social disorders 
is the greatest danger to society. Duty should 
prompt us to be honest; to be satisfied with 
what we have; to respect each other's character; 
to honor our parents, and reverence the aged, 
the poor and the afflicted. We must impress 
on the minds of our youth the spirit of Christian 
humility, the kindness, courtesy and sympathy, 
without which there can be no gentleman, no 
lady. All these duties are easy if the heart be 
willing. 



ii 



CHAPTER XXVI 

CHRISTMAS DAY. 

The birth of Jesus Christ at Bethlehem was not 
an incident of history, but an epoch round which 
cluster all the great events of the world. Fore¬ 
told by the sages and prophets of old Messiah 
was expected by the Jews, not in a humble garb, 
not among the poor and down trodden, but in 
regal power, the great leader of an emancipat¬ 
ing army—one whose majesty would overshadow 
that of the Caesars, and give to Israel a glory 
she had never known before. But Israel was 
no longer to be the favored people of God; the 
brotherhood of man was to be declared, national 
lines obliterated and the light of truth spread 
among all his children. 

To a few poor shepherds, far removed from 
the active world, who thought more of their 
flocks than of Imperial Rome, and who watched 
with eager expectation the coming of Messiah, 
an angel came with the glad tidings of his birth, 
and a star appeared to guide them to where he 
lay. The Christ was born at Bethlehem in a 
stable and laid by his mother in a manager. 
The mother and child—the child and mother— 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


135 


bone of each other’s bone and flesh of each 
other’s flesh. How can any one contemplate 
the birth of Christ and leave out his mother ? 
His privations were hers, her sufferings were his. 
Who can describe her feelings as she gazed on 
her child and her Lord ? The Holy Ghost 
dwelt in her, and revelations made to her she 
pondered deeply and kept to herself. The King 
of Glory lying in a manager ! God so loves to 
come whether to a sinful world or to a poor suf¬ 
fering soul with simplicity and sympathy to 
share our sorrows, and teach us how to suffer 
and endure, to bear our cross and follow Him. 

Imperial Caesar ruled imperial Rome and 
Rome ruled the world. Little did the haughty 
Caesar know that in Bethlehem of Judea, that 
night was born in poverty and destitution one 
who would by the light of divine truth and the 
inexhaustible energy of divine love crush the 
power of the mighty Roman empire, and give joy 
to the bereaved nations trodden under foot by her 
conquering legions. Little did the philosophers 
of Greece think that in a cold crypt of a cara¬ 
vansary in Judea a child would be born who 
would give to the world a pnilosophy that would 
reduce to the utmost simplicity all that can be 
known by man. It is now well understood that 


136 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


the study of true philosophy must begin at the 
manger and, in this world, end at the cross. 

Let us go from Bethlehem to Nazareth. The 
the way is rough, but the blue Syrian sky is over¬ 
head. Thirty years in that humble home seems to 
be a blank. So sacred that home, so entirely con¬ 
secrated to God, that the evangelists have not 
dared to draw aside, for a moment even, the veil 
that hid it from the world. The child was well 
cared for. His mother taught him all the graces of 
childhood and watched over him with the utmost 
solicitude. At her knees he studied the law, 
and when strong enough helped Joseph at the 
bench. Joseph died in due time, and Jesus 
worked dutifully for the support of his mother 
and himself. 

The hour at length came when he had to go 
on his mission of redemption. The house at 
Nazareth was closed, and with his mother, he 
went forth. For three years he walked about 
teaching by word and example—teaching what 
God only had known—what God only could 
teach. He gave to us a maxim, the very 
essence of justice, the perfect embodiment of 
all law. “As ye would that men should do 
unto you, do ye so unto them in like manner." 
He went among the poor and afflicted and min- 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 137 

istered to them in their sufferings and sorrows. 
The leper he cleansed, all kinds of diseases he 
cured, raised the dead to life, and took the sin¬ 
ner to his compassionate bosom—these he called 
his brethren and sisters. Who can tell how 
that divine heart of his grieved when he saw 
those poor stricken ones ? Who can tell how 
the sympathy of God could approach human 
misery and bestow on it the consolation of hope 
and the soothing tenderness of love ? But love 
could not be complete without sacrifice. Christ 
bore our infirmities and was led like a lamb to 
the slaughter, he carried his cross up the via 
dolorosa, and died on it for the world. It is 
finished. In every stage of his life there is a 
lesson—in his poverty, in his child-obedience 
in his labors, in his teachings, in his love, his 
sorrow, his sufferings and death. 

Let us this Christmas day reflect on these 
things. Mothers, remember it is a childrens fes¬ 
tival, the anniversary of the birth of Jesus Christ. 
Take the little ones to the manger and teach them 
that the poor child, born there, in after years 
when homeless and weary, took little children on 
his knees and blessed them. Tell them how he 
loved gentle words and kindly deeds, how re¬ 
spectful he was to the aged and the poor; how 


138 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


tenderly he shared our sorrows, and how mild- 
and pure and benevolent he was to every one. 
Fix his image on the hearts of your children, and 
emblazon on their souls his words: “Love one 
another as I have loved you.” Tell your child¬ 
ren of his obedience to his mother—of his labors, 
and his love, but more than all, tell them that 
he is their redeemer, their father and God. 
Speak of him, }^e fathers, when the family is 
gathered together; speak of his precepts, of all 
those laws and rules he laid down for our guid¬ 
ance and safety. Let him be an example in 
your midst, and pray to him for all the graces 
and blessings you need, as he prayed to his 
father for you. 

Decorate the mantel board with holly, strew 
green rushes over the floor, and put a light in the 
window for the absent loved ones. Tonight the 
Christ is born. All hail the dawning Christmas 
day! All hail! All hail! Glory to God on 
high; for to us is born his Christ. All hail the 
day, the anniversary of the birth of our Lord. 
Christmas day is the keystone in the arch of 
time, the beacon light on the shore of eternity. 

We should honor the day because we can not 
approach the redeeming cross unless we rever¬ 
ence the stable in which he was born, and the 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


139 


manger in which he lay; unless we go with the 
Holy family to Nazareth and learn the lesson of 
patience and willing resignation to the will of 
God. It is at Nazareth we become acquainted 
with humility, the pure fountain of all the other 
virtues. 

The manger at Bethlehem was the cradle of 
Christianity. The star in the far up Syrian sky 
was the first light of liberty shining down on a 
benighted world. It was at Bethlehem poverty 
was consecrated for all time to God, and the suf¬ 
fering and sorrows of humanity were turned into 
divine beautitudes. At Nazareth duty and vir¬ 
tue became the groundwork of Christian civili¬ 
zation, and purity the safeguard of honor. 

Along the highways and byways traveled by 
Christ we pick up those germs of truth, trodden 
under foot by the vain and foolish. It is from 
him we learned that manhood and womanhood 
in rags, despised by the world, are measured in 
heaven by the mind and heart of each. The 
manger at Bethlehem was the first station on 
the way to Calvary—and the way to God begins 
in humility and ends in sorrow. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

TRAVELERS AND TOURISTS. 

I have always been an admirer of books of 
travel, and their authors I regard as old friends 
with whom I enjoyed many happy'hours and 
wandered oyer many lands. Whether in Asia, 
Africa or America, I followed with them the 
trend of the beautiful and the sublime, and 
picked up here and there reminiscences of the 
good and true, leaving to the dumb dust every¬ 
thing ignoble and vile. Antiquarian travelers, 
such as Layard, I loved to loiter with among 
the grey mouldering memorials of buried cities 
and dead nations—to hold converse with the 
shades of unremembered centuries and seek for 
a solution of the awful mystery of time. But it 
was with the happy-go-easy gentlemen of alpen¬ 
stock and knapsack fame, I was most at home. 
These good sensible fellows turned away from 
the dead past to the living present. They loved 
nature in her every mood, and, like true philoso¬ 
phers, sought and found among the people the 
rational enjoyments of simple life. From dark 
shadows they saw the sun and from the sunlight 
looked on the dying shadows behind. Lovingly 
did some of them describe home life in the land 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


141 


of the midnight sun. What savage grandeur of 
mountain and fiord. There the thunder voice 
of Thor was heard in battle, and the beautiful 
Valkyria was seen bearing her beloved slain to the 
Valhalla of the Gods. How pleasant to be 
with Irving in old Grenada, reading over her 
chequered history, reviewing the chivalric foes 
who fought on her soil, or dreaming in the 
Alhambra of love and romance, of the days 
when the Caliphs reigned in splendor surrounded 
with creations of Moorish genius. 

But of all travelers of the alpen-stock and 
knapsack order, Goldsmith was the happiest and 
most original. He struck out for himself, travel¬ 
ing on foot through different countries of Europe, 
playing his flute for his meals or a night’s lodging. 
In this way he studied manners, customs and 
institutions, storing his great mind with those 
simple philosophic truths and reflections which 
enabled him in after year to enrich English lit¬ 
erature with a chaste style and classic purity it 
had not known before. 

The traveler is no more, the alpen-stock and 
knapsack are laid aside, and the old note book 
is buried away. Now and then a lonely pilgrim 
passes across the stage of life with a worn out 
manuscript and a broken heart. Thus we go 


142 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


one by one to the sunset, all following the 
kindly light of God. 

The tourist is now the pet rambler of the 
world; he travels by steam on land or water, 
well equipped with guide books and bills of ex¬ 
change. His one great motive is to see society, 
to rub against royalty and become acquainted 
with aristocratic stock or cion of Europe. He 
is by no means dilatory, and loses no time in 
groping among old ruins or visiting places made 
memorable by great achievements of man. To 
him the architecture of Egypt or Greece is not 
worth a rotten fig, and the classic lands that 
gave to us literature and art are dull, dreary and 
uninteresting. He flies from continent to con¬ 
tinent; is in Paris one week spreading himself 
along the boulevards;the next week at Jerusalem, 
and a few days after he may be seen recounting 
his exploits on the banks of Lake Luzerne or in a 
chalet at the foot of Alps. He is well primed 
with small talk and French phrases; can quote a 
few familiar lines of Shakspeare; talk of the 
‘ ‘Idyl of the Kings" with a cultured lisp and 
emphasize a gnarled verse or two from Brown¬ 
ing. Wealth has overweighted his intellect, and 
the process of mental developement, obstructed 
in the boy, left ample room for vanity and self- 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


143 


indulgence in the man. This applies to the 
wealthy American tourist and his feminine 
shadow. The American tourist cares nothing 
for American scenery; he would rather plant a 
foot on a parterre at Buckingham or Windsor 
than see the unsurpassed magnificence of nature 
among the Rocky mountains. A royal den in 
England or Germany would be more to his class 
than the Yosemite with its wonderful variety of 
matchless splendor. In Europe our tourists can 
say but very little of their own great country, 
but when they come home they can talk of noth¬ 
ing but “old families,” old castles, of my Lord 
George, my Lady Arabella, and the little pug- 
nosed pet of some silly old dowager. The 
American tourist is no honor to his country. 
Does he want scenery unequaled in all the rest 
of the world? The West with its ever growing 
wonders lovingly invites him. Where can be 
seen such lakes and rivers as ours? They afford 
views unsurpassed in beauty and magnitude by 
those of any other country. The mountain 
scenery of North Carolina is truly sublime. Its 
fifty-seven peaks, each more than 6,000 feet 
high; between these are pleasant valleys, deep 
.gorges, and beautiful streams—all in all, it can 


144 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


not be surpassed by any other country on the 
globe. An American should be proud of his 
country; to be ignorant of its vastness, its glorious 
scenery and resources is in him a crime. 

There are American people who though not 
claiming kin to the fading royalty and senile 
aristocracy of continental Europe, possess that 
higher rank conferred by education, common 
sense and tireless energy. Among them are 
ladies and gentlemen of refinement who have 
ndt separated themselves from their kind by 
arbitrary selfishness and bad manners. There¬ 
fore the modern American tourist is not in any 
manner a representative of our people. 

The traveler of the Bayard Taylor type should 
be brought out and restored to his place in the 
respect of all intelligent men and women. Clubs 
could be organized, and such charges made as 
would in a short time aggregate a sum sufficient 
to equip young men to travel in the alpen-stock 
and knapsack style. They should be disciplined 
and instructed, not hampered, but free to take 
their own course. Such men are needed to give 
an impetus to intellect, to make our people bet¬ 
ter acquainted with this wonderful country; to 
make us better acquainted with the inhabitants 
of the other countries, and to learn the manners, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


145 


customs and conditions of other nations. By 
all honorable means let the old time traveler be 
restored, but we have no use for the tourist, 
male or female. 



✓ 


10 



CHAPTER XXVIII 


HEROES AND HEROINES. 

A hero is defined to be “a man distinguished 
for valor; a brave man; a great warrior.” A 
man may be all these, but to be in the true sense 
of the word a hero, his deeds must be measured 
by his motives. A ruffian may be bold and 
undaunted, and perform acts of undoubted 
valor, in an unjust cause, for the winning of a 
name or the applause of the crowd, but to be a 
hero, a man must have a high, pure incentive 
and noble aim—lacking these he forfeits all claim 
to heroic renown. The mercenary on the field 
of battle may bear from his comrades the nob¬ 
lest trophy by his bravery, but he cannot be 
esteemed a hero. The truest test of merit 
would be where no reward, no public distinction, 
could be gained. Where a man is ready or will¬ 
ing to endanger or sacrifice life for the good of 
others, ready to dash into the “yeast of waters ” 
to rescue a fellow-being, or rush into a burning 
house to save some poor helpless creature from a 
terrible death—there is the true hero. 

“ The fittest place for man to die 
Is where he dies for man.” 

He who so dies though despised for his pov¬ 
erty, though rejected by society as an outcast, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


147 


has redeemed himself before God, and is a hero 
indeed. Such a man never seeks the applause 
of the people, he but listens to the promptings 
of his manly heart, and the voice of conscience. 

How often does history hold up for the emu¬ 
lation of youth, men honored as heroes who 
crimsoned many a fair field with human gore, 
and destroyed the happy homes of inoffensive 
people ? What were the Alexanders, Caesars, 
and Napoleons, but ambitious tyrants who tram¬ 
pled on human right to satisfy their greedy 
appetite for fame? And those men are called 
heroes—the colossal murderers who in defiance 
of God and humanity, outraged every principle 
of honor and justice ! When reading of immense 
armies meeting in the mad conflict of battle, 
while we admire the ‘ ‘ magnificently stern array ” 
of each and get frenzied over the carnage spread 
around, we give no thought to the conquered 
nation, the defiled shrine of religion, the ruined 
home, the widowed wife and fatherless children. 
We praise the great prowess of Russia and 
admire the military strength of Germany, but 
forget that poor Poland is in chains and tears. 

“ O bloodiest picture in the book of time! 

Sarmatia fell, unwept without a crime.” 


148 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


The destroyers of her national liberty are now 
emblazoned in history as heroes. 

It would be well to ponder these things, and 
having done so the conviction will come that the 
slayers of the peace and happiness of nations 
may be designated brave men, mighty conquer- 
ors, but never heroes. It is like a ray of sun¬ 
shine after years of darkness to see Tell striking 
the fetters from the soul of his glorious Helvetia, 
to see Washington fighting against wrong for 
freedom and humanity. These two noble men 
were heroes, and in every heart that throbs for 
justice they will be revered as such. The heroes 
of history are few, the grave-digging warriors 
are many. 

History loves to flash its light on purple and 
gold; it has no sympathy for the people. It 
grasps at the blazing meteor, but will not notice 
the quiet stars studding the firmament. One must 
go close to the big, throbbing heart of humanity 
to be a sharer of its love and simplicity. It is 
among the people that joy and sorrow dwell 
together, and there the heroic virtues flourish. 

A few years ago at Oil City, Pa., a cloud-burst 
caused the creek to rise up high over its banks. 
Oil in the tanks caught fire from the lightning, 
and the blazing oil floated on the swollen waters. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


149 


Many persons were surrounded by the flood and 
were in imminent danger. A poor man having 
a wife and children and regarded as worthless 
in the community, pushed out his boat on the 
fiery flood. The bystanders shuddered; his 
wife saw him, but spoke no discouraging word. 
He crossed and recrossed the consuming torrent, 
and in a short time had saved more than twenty 
lives. “ Why did you venture in such danger?” 
he was asked. “I could not,” he answered, 
“see those people perish. I felt it my duty to 
go even though I should perish also.” He was 
one of the unchronicled heroes. See that poor 
man coming from the mines; he works half time; 
he staggers but is not drunk. Day after day he 
has lived on one meal a day, that his poor wife 
and children might not suffer hunger. Do not 
the angels keep record of such heroes? 

The world is full of heroes and heroines; of 
men who silently and patiently bear crushing 
wrongs, and bring in to wife and children a 
kindly word and a tender caress. Charity and 
simple faith are the two streams that invigorate 
the heart with the spirit of heroism. But the 
heroes of the world must yield to woman the glory 
of the most self-sacrificing heroism. In sickness 
she is an angel or mercy, tenderly watching by the 


150 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


bed on which husband or child may be suffering 
with some serious disease. How low her voice ! 
how tender her touch ! how sleepless her eyes, and 
how constantly true her heart ! In want she 
makes no complaint, and cheerfully denies her¬ 
self food to feed her little ones. For her hus¬ 
band she has words of hope and consolation; 
and if a neighbor suffers she shares the pain and 
does all in her power to alleviate distress. 
Woman ! there is no heroism to equal hers* It 
has not grown less since the day of Calvary, 
when she poured out her soul in sorrow at the 
foot of the cross. Men and women who go to 
distant lands with the light of the gospel, suffer 
many a privation. Far away from the home of 
childhood, they often think of the past. The 
refinements and comforts of life they gave up to 
bear their cross and follow the Master. They 
are familiar with danger, and their associations 
are often rude and offensive. All that could 
make life dear to one’s heart, all the courtesies 
and graces of good society, they resigned for the 
love of God and the good of humanity. If these 
are not heroes and heroines, duty is a mistake 
and Christian charity a gloomy illusion. 

The heroes and heroines of the world are 
numerous; they are found where famine, lean 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


151 


and haggard, sits brooding over its victims, and 
the “hunger pain” is gnawing at the heart. 
When the plague strikes a community, danger is 
forgotten, and men and women rush into slum 
or cottage, into the crowded tenement, or the 
shed where the outcast is sheltered, to cool the 
fervered brow and moisten the parched lips. 
Nay, more, they direct the eyes of the dying to 
the opening portals of heaven, and whisper to 
the departing soul a message for the angel of 
mercy. 

The hero walks the crowded thoroughfare with 
the quiet confidence of a child; and the heroine 
passes on the highway or meets you at her home 
with a calm brow and sweet smile. Poor are 
they indeed—no wealth is theirs, but in the 
humble cottage or cabin one can find pure, true 
love, cheerfulness and a hearty, gentle resigna¬ 
tion to the will of God. 




CHAPTER XXIX. 


THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS. 

One can not contemplate the human mind, so 
marvelously grand is it, without admiring its 
freedom, its limitless domain and creative faculty 
of thought. It is a pity that these grand quali¬ 
ties should ever be marred by any vicious act of 
the will. Truth is one element of the mind that 
should direct all its forces, and if this be obscured 
by any cause, its freedom is lost, and the beauty 
it worshipped disappears. 

There is no one commandment of the deca¬ 
logue less honored and more commonly violated 
than the one which is the title of this paper. 
Lying is denounced in the scriptures as a fearful 
crime, and to its woeful influences are attributed 
all manner of disorders. There is no sin more 
prolific of evil to society or more offensive to 
God. It has invaded the sanctuary of religion 
and defiled it with hypocrisy. It has been the 
forerunner of intellectual pride and the source of 
all heresies. It has perverted the word of God 
and even denied God himself. It sat among the 
high priests in open accusation of Christ, and 
sneered at him in the Pretorium before Pilate. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


153 


It sent the early Christians to martyrdom and 
dragged helpless old age, robust manhood and 
chaste virgins into the amphitheatre to be 
devoured by wild beasts. 

Apart from its warfare against God, if we fol¬ 
low its career through the nations of the earth, 
we will see the widespread ruin it has 
wrought. Every war has been instigated by 
falsehood, and every act of injustice perpetrated 
by man against man has been prompted or 
defended by it. The statesmanship of this world 
adopts it, and justifies duplicity and dishonesty 
by success. There is not a nation today under 
the merciless rule of tyranny but can justly 
charge its enslavement to lying. 

Law, in the abstract, defined as “Reason, 
teaching and legislating for the common good,” 
is no longer the safeguard of society, and is, per¬ 
haps, justly regarded as a technical system of 
evasion or downright dishonesty. An oath is 
regarded as a mere formal act, and too often 
the culprit goes clear and the innocent man is 
punished. Twelve men as jurors are no better 
than twelve men as witnesses, and conflicting 
testimony is by no means a vindication of igno¬ 
rance or falsehood. How many poor creatures 
have swung into eternity—doomed to that 


154 


wayside: thoughts. 


wretched death by the oath of one or two per¬ 
sons whose word would not be taken in any 
decent, moral community. “Thou shalt not 
bear false witness against thy neighbor. ” But 
if the false witness gains the cause the majesty 
of the law is vindicated, let the divine law be 
what it may. 

One is almost afraid to trust politics. In the 
election of officers from president down to con¬ 
stable, no man ought to be supported who is not 
thoroughly honest and capable. But the struggle 
for party supremacy has been so fierce and reck¬ 
less, and society so convulsed thereby, that the 
offensive dregs at the bottom have been worked 
up above the surface. Common sense has been 
relegated to the dung hill, and the frothy, foul 
demagogue and turbulent partisan takes the 
places which should be reserved for good men 
and true. Why is this? Lies are afloat, and 
sensitive gentlemen shudder at slander. Candi¬ 
dates abuse and villifv one another, and the 
press, which ought to shield public and private 
decency, becomes a groveling slave and the 
foulest offender of all. What else can be 
expected where honor, integrity and truth are 
disregarded ? Lies elevate the lowest to high 
positions and degrade gentlemen to the lowest 


WAYSID 3 THOUGHTS. 


155 


standard. Political lies invade the sacred pre¬ 
cincts of home, and cause the heart of a pure 
wife to bleed for her slandered, loving husband. 
Lies rule every where in politics—lies and greed— 
lies and a sham manhood. 

Society without charity is sure to have a cal¬ 
lous heart and a seared conscience. Is not the 
liar present everywhere to poison virtue and 

banish peace ? Burns is right: 

“ Man’s inhumanity to man 
Makes countless thousands mourn.” 

Let us reflect; inhumanity and truth cannot 
cohere, and therefore every crime against man 
springs from his brother man’s falsehood. The 
young man who makes an effort to rise to an 
honorable position, some liar tries to crush. If 
by industry he makes a happy home, another, 
jealous of his prosperity, slanders him to the 
public and so ruins him. Whatever business 
one follows, the liar shadows him to do him 
injuty. If a man goes to church regularly and 
leads a good, moral life, the liar brands him as 
a knave and hypocrite. If one tries to keep a 
fair reputation and good character, the liar 
assails his motives with slander. But of all 
crimes committed against society, the most 
inhuman is that of a man slandering a woman. 




156 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


Her name she tries to keep clean, but the cow¬ 
ardly slanderer spews out the deadly poison of 
falsehood against her. Be she foul with sin the 
ruffian who, instead of lifting her up, would hold 
her down in degradation, is not a man but a 
brute in the likeness of a man. 

Among women the liar has a prominent place 
—the sweet smiling liar that cuts with the keen 
knife of deceit her poor sister to pieces. It is 
enough to make angels weep to see the 
Judas kiss, and hear the assurance of sisterly 
affection, while at the same time the sparkling 
drug is ready for the work of death. If some 
young woman yields to the tempting liar, her 
sisters, instead of taking her by the hand and 
helping her to get out of her shame and her sor¬ 
row, spurn her as unclean and repulse her with 
scorn. Compassion, love, mercy—all are out¬ 
raged, and the example set by Christ rudely 
rejected. The tattler, the gadding newsmonger 
must needs be a liar. Woman belongs to a 
higher sphere. From the past she can get 
inspiration from those of her sex whose love and 
pity, meekness and humility, were the glory of 
their lives. Is the spirit of Christ dead among 
us ? Is it a shame to touch his garments, and 
can purity suffer by kneeling at his feet and 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


157 


shedding tears with the repentant Magdalen ? 
Let the liar be avoided. 

Religion suffers where there is neither truth 
nor charity. All the doctrines and dogmas of 
all the Christian churches are dead drift without 
the spirit of charity. It is not plain to me that 
truth can exist in any church without charity. 
Because one person does not agree with another 
on some doctrine, is that cause for the abusive 
language, ill-will, scandal and misrepresentation? 
A man’s opinion in religion is nothing with God, 
but his intentions and deeds are closely observed. 
Am I to resign my liberty of conscience to please 
another ? I am responsible to God for it, and 
to Him only; His approbation is more to me 
than all the doctrines or dogmas in the world. 
The churches cannot agree dogmatically, but 
they can, they will, agree in charity. As long as 
bitterness, strife and misrepresentation are 
indulged there can be no charity, and where 
charity is not practiced God will not abide. 

Everywhere the liar is at work undermining 
social purity. In colleges and universities, di¬ 
plomas are granted to students of law and medi¬ 
cine who have acquired but little knowledge 
beyond a mere acquaintance with technology, 


158 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


and the general outlines of necessary profes¬ 
sional culture. 

What are such diplomas but lies under seal of 
law to do grievous wrong to society ? In our 
free school system certificates are granted to 
young men and young women who are not well 
acquainted with the primary branches and these 
certificates are lies that defraud our young peo¬ 
ple of good, competent instructors, and conse¬ 
quently of necessary education. In all the stores 
of the country, almost every article sold for the 
table is adulterated and the wicked lie stamped 
by authority of law. 

Is there any way of destroying this gigantic 
evil ? There is. In the family we must com¬ 
mence. We must keep the heart pure and har¬ 
bor only pure thoughts. If we bridle the tongue 
and practice self-denial, relying on God for help, 
the victory will be ours. We must love our 
neighbor as ourselves, and do unto others as we 
would have them do unto us. 



CHAPTER XXX 


LIBERTY. 

Liberty has been a favorite theme of poet 
and orator in all ages, and could always elicit 
the warmest feelings and highest flights in 
either. With the first dawn of reason comes 
the first dream of liberty to the human soul, 
and next to love is honored and revered where- 
ever the heavy hand of oppression is felt. 
Wherever the conqueror marches, the seed of 
liberty is sown in blood and tears. The child 
hears it in the sweet, sad songs of the mother, 
and the old man, tired of life, takes its inspiration 
with him to heaven. Where the shadow of 
tyranny lies the throb of liberty is felt in the 
long-suffering heart of the enslaved. Nations 
that have been despoiled folded up its spirit in 
the grave for a promised resurrection. 

Adam and Eve must have wept bitterly for 
the liberty they had lost by disobedience, and 
the Chaldean, watching his flock, often looked up 
to the starlit page of prophecy for some sure 
sign of its advent. The children of Israel 
waited, watched and prayed for liberty, and 
when Messiah brought it to them they rejected 


160 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS 


him and it. As in the past, so in the present, 
it is a magnificent illusion, or a reality not yet 
seen nor understood. 

And I—I too have been a dreamer—I too 
have worshipped the unseen light, and followed 
in fancy every transient ray that fell upon the 
pathway of my hopes. I left the Eden of my 
youth beguiled by a splendid fantasy and for 
years have wandered in search of my beautiful 
ideal, but found it not. I was no slave—my 
home was a happy one; all that I could ration¬ 
ally enjoy was there. A new era was begun; 
right was forcing down might by reason, and 
hoary prejudices were dying out under the mild 
light of intelligence. How often do we travel 
far to seek what we left behind us at home ! 
We go to Jerusalem to see footprints of Christ 
and leave him the divine consoler in the midst 
of the dear home circle. 

But is the word liberty fairly understood ? It 
is, we are told, “power of acting without re¬ 
straint. ” If so the liberty of the strong man may 

destroy the liberty of the weak man; the liberty of 
the rich man may destroy the liberty of the 
poor man. Crime would be in the ascendant 
and virtue at the mercy of the vicious and evil- 
minded. Is not this the history of human lib- 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


161 


erty the world over ? It is questionable that 
what is commonly regarded as liberty can exist 
without a moral apprehension of right and 
wrong, and the duty that man owes to man, 
regulated by justice and equity. Man cannot 
be free unless he submits to necessary restraint 
no more than he can be morally good without 
practicing self-denial. 

But liberty will be loved through all time how¬ 
ever it may be defined. Be it so, but let it be 
the liberty that loves justice and fair play; that 
would regulate society by healthy restraint, and 
repel every aggression on human rights. Lib¬ 
erty can ennoble no man, man must ennoble him¬ 
self, and by his good conduct help society to 
the highest possible achievements by moral 
force. The liberty of the orator is a pleasant 
fancy the liberty of the poet a delicious dream. 

Irrational liberty, however it may be consid¬ 
ered, is wrong. The communist and nihilist 
have tried it and may defend it. It levels all 
distinctions, sets God at defiance, and tramples 
on every law human and divine. Irrational lib¬ 
erty has had its day in France, but the stiletto 
and the guillotine can never again be employed 
as the agents of liberty. But it is this brutal 


162 WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 

liberty anarchy would give us as a panacea for 
all wrongs. 

Is there no other form of liberty that man can 
rationally crave ? There is: “The truth will 
make you free. ” This is the true philosophic 
answer flashed from the soul of Christ. But 
where can this truth be found ? In the teach¬ 
ings of jesus Christ, and in this divine truth— 
this glorious liberty—are love, misery, justice, 
purity and charity. These surely are enough 
for every country and people. Where these 
virtues are practiced—where they are adopted 
as the true rule of life, there can be no tyranny, 
no war, no oppression; love will reign in every 
heart and home, and God will be our father, 
law-giver and king. 

“ The truth will make you free.” 





CHAPTER XXXI 


THE LIGHTHOUSE AND THE WRECKERS. 

In many part of the world the sea coast is 
dangerous at night to mariners, and to prevent 
shipwreck and save life high towers with power¬ 
ful light on top were built in those places. The 
first tower of this kind, recorded in history, was 
that at Pharos, at the entrance to the port of 
Alexandria. There was a class of men called 
buccaneers or pirates who were moie dangerous 
than rocky coast or stormy sea. It is said of 
them that they at times would take possession 
of a lighthouse, put out the light, that some 
ships might be dashed against rocks, and fall 
into their hands. 

English and French adventurers who com¬ 
bined to commit depredations on the Spanish 
possessions in America, in the 17th and 18th 
centuries, were of the buccaneer class, and not 
free from horrible crimes. On many dangerous 
sea coasts people lived who were called wreck¬ 
ers. Some of these would make false high lights 
to allure unsuspecting sailors to certain destruc¬ 
tion, after which the wreck and its contents 
would be at their mercy. Those terrible crimes 


164 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


are now but black memories of the past, and 
the pirate and wrecker live only in some grew- 
some tales of the sea. 

Thousands of years ago God erected a light¬ 
house to warn mankind of danger, and flash its 
light over the treacherous reef and the hidden 
whirpool. The lighthouse was built on a moun¬ 
tain; it was to be a light to the mayfarer’s feet, 
but people grew wise in their own conceit and 
heeded not the light nor listened to the voice of 
the Almighty. The wreckers came along; an 
invisible hand put out the light for a while, and 
destruction and death covered the earth. Again 
and again the prophetic light of God appeared, 
and the warning voice was heard, but haughty 
men turned away from the Holy mount, and 
laughed at the light of prophecy and the awful 
voice of heaven. The light was again put out, 
and Babylon and Nineveh, and other nations 
passed into eternal darkness, leaving no vestige 
of their greatness behind, but ghastly ruins and 
empty names. The wreckers were at hand, 
and their work was completely done. The 
avenging spirits—the merciless wreckers—were 
not of God, they came into being when oppres¬ 
sion ground the poor to dust, and the voice cry¬ 
ing for mercy was drowned in the noise of brutal 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


165 


debauchery. The lighthouse stands and the 
wreckers are sleeping close to a volcano. 

Rome, imperial, mighty Rome, would own the 
world. In her coarse, sensuous pleasures; in 
her contempt of justice, truth and humanity, 
she scorned the lighthouse on the hill, and defied 
the word that called the world into existence. 
In the zenith of her glory she felt an unseen 
power working against her, and down swept 
from the foot of the Carpathian mountains, the 
fierce Hun—the scourge of God—and from the 
north of Europe, the German barbarians, and 
trampled on the imperial enslaver of the world. 
Rome passed out, also passed into her own Tar¬ 
tarus—vanquished by her own crimes, cruelties 
and indecency. The wreckers claimed the spoil 
and they who had no mercy in the days of their 
greatness, received none. 

The light on the hill needed to be trimmed. 
A new light appeared: “The light that light¬ 
ened every man." God himself came, put on 
our humanity and in veriest love and pity, 
lived among us. How beautiful the light shone! 
How good he was and true! “ He came unto 
his own and his own received him not," but 
tried to put out the flight by destroying him. 
They took the Holy one and crucified him. 


166 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


For a moment the light disappeared and as he 
rose from the dead, the light shone with renewed 
brillinacy, and so it has shone, so it shines and 
will forever shine in this world until the end of 
time. 

Around that lighthouse today, poor wreckers 
are working with might and main to undermine 
the house and put out the light. Through all 
the storms and tribulations of the past nineteen 
hundred years, the light of divine truth has been 
shining. It has shown to philosophy the way 
out of darkness, and endowed human law with 
justice and mercy. It has given hope to the 
poor and filled the toiler’s home with peace and 
love. Who are the wreckers that would destroy 
the light of God ? The infidel, who denies him, 
the materialist, who would annihilate spiritual 
life and leave to mankind only the cold, damp 
clay of the grave; the oppressor who would take 
from humanity the love and sympathy of Christ; 
churches without faith that would subordinate 
the simple truths of the Gospel to intellectual 
pride—that overshadowing curse of the world. 

The lighthouse of God is standing and will 
forever stand to give light to the world, to lead 
the poor and needy to eternal happiness. Wind 
nor wave, nor wrecker can dim the light of 
truth or weaken the love of our Father in heaven. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

LEGAL ADULTERATION OF FOOD AND ILLICIT DIS¬ 
TILLATION OF WHISKEY. 

Excepting the cleaning of streets and the over¬ 
hauling the quarters of the poor in the cities, 
there are no laws or regulations for proper sani¬ 
tation in the United States. We may boast of 
our civil institutions and of our equality before 
the law, but what we are in the law is not clearly 
understood. Individual liberty is rght to some 
extent, but it would be best to restrain it at all 
times within rational limits. When the people 
of the United States pay about $90,000,000 
annually for adulterants among which are saw¬ 
dust, sand, soap grease and horse fat, and other 
unplatable substances, little can be said in favor 
of the government that allows such outrages to 
be committed by the wealthy few. But it seems 
that wherever great wealth exists, law becomes its 
most obsequious servant. It would be no offense 
to our national pride to go back to the great 
lawgiver, Moses, and borrow from him the sani¬ 
tary laws he gave to his people. They are far 
in advance of our modern rules of hygiene, and 
are fully approved by our ablest writers on the 
subject. 


168 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


Sand, soap, sawdust and horse fat! Why, a 
cannibal would not insult his stomach with such 
stuff. One-sixth of our infant population die 
from drinking impure milk, and more deaths 
are caused by impure water than by alcoholic 
drinks. If Herod were living today he would 
blush for our cold-blooded, legal way of massa¬ 
cring poor children. It is a wonder that women 
do not use block and tackle, instead of yeast or 
baking powders, to raise their dead dough. Our 
coffee is composed of whole beans made of starch 
and dough and pressed into shape, and other 
ingredients also. In a half dozen cups of the 
beverage there could not be found pure coffee 
enough to stimulate a gnat. Is it a cause of 
surprise that we are so much afflicted with con¬ 
stipation, and suffer, as we do from nervous 
exhaustion? The only thing to relieve one from 
such a deadly aggregation of these foul adulter¬ 
ants would be croton oil or dymanite. If the 
adulteration of food would be a violation of the 
internal revenue law, United States marshals 
and deputy marshals would be all over the coun¬ 
try with stomach pumps to hunt up cases. The 
pure food congress of 1898 deserves much credit 
for those exposures. The murder of children 
and infections of the people are shameful results 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


169 


of bad government. No action is permissable 
in congress to save the people from criminals, 
protected by law and to a great extent are law¬ 
makers themselves. 

The farmer takes his produce to market, and 
buys for what it may bring, table necessaries 75 
per cent adulteration. But our learned econo¬ 
mists say that the law protects the farmer and the 
adulterating industry alike. It is the old adage: 

Every one for himself and the devil take the 
hindmost.” There is another kind of adultera¬ 
tion scarcely ever referred to, that of whiskey, 
beer and wine. The whiskey trusts put an 
article on the market so foully adulterated that 
to it may be charged 50 per cent of all the mur¬ 
ders, suicides, insanity and home destruction in 
the country. 

Social reformers never touch these evils. 
Christian temperance societies pass them by 
lest they offend established degnity. What 
care they for murdered children? What care 
they for widespread disease propagated by law? 
With them intemperance is the one, great evil 
—it is the Paganisni string of their reform fiddle. 
The preacher turns away from the evils of adul¬ 
teration, because it would not do to offend 
church-going members who freely contribute to 


170 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


home and foreign missions, and are always lib¬ 
eral to their pastor. 

In remote mountain regions, distilleries have 
been at work without any authority of law. In 
this way they are enabled to pay their taxes, 
and purchase adulterated groceries. The moon¬ 
shiner is as much superior to a whiskey-trust 
gentleman as his mountain dew to the licensed 
abomination called whiskey. He cannot afford 
to send his daughter to Vassar or any other high 
educational establishment, he keeps her at 
home and she loves home work. On his native 
mountains he is a living witness against the law. 

Is it not time that we would cease boasting of 
our powers and civilization, and look about for 
a Hercules to cleanse our Augean stable ? The 
health of the people, moral and physical, is the 
first thing legislation should attend to. The adul¬ 
teration of food and of alcoholic drinks is legal 
as long as taxes are paid for so doing. Adulter¬ 
ation can afford to pay, but the pure article can 
not. Thus it is that the government issues 
license to poison food, and furnish whiskey that 
incites men to deeds of crime, to murder, sui¬ 
cide and insanity. How long shall the iniquity 
last? How long shall the government of this 
great country continue to pander to injustice, 
crime and greed ? 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE WATCH MEETING. 

Many years ago, long before there was any 
thing said of the Norfolk and Western railroad, 
the little valley in which stands Welch, the 
county seat of McDowell county, West Virginia, 
was a place of gloomy, savage grandeur. Down 
the wild mountains dashed many a bright stream, 
screened by the dark forest in summer, and in 
winter sheltered by impending crags above. 
The Elkhorn region was almost a solitude, and 
Tug river, into which the Elkhorn river flows, 
had on either side a wild, rugged appearance. 
The valley of each stream was regarded as a 
refuge for outlaws, but in both, the people 
though rude were honest, kind-hearted and hos¬ 
pitable. They hunted or fished, raised corn 
and vegetables enough, paid their debts, and 
had their meeting houses where they met to 
worship God. They had their faults to be sure, 
but they had also those sterling virtues which 
are the safeguards of society every where. 
Pride did not enervate nor fashion corrupt them. 
I became acquainted with those good people 
thirty years ago, they were my friends, and liv- 


172 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


ing or dead they have a green place in my 
memory. 

Close to the spot now known as Welch, lived 
a family named Belcher, some of whom I have 
well known. They cherished the traditions 
that came down from the pioneer days, and had 
a never-failing stock of ghost and witchcraft 
lore. Mr. Belcher loved dogs, and at one time 
was raising two young ones on which he set much 
value. One of them got injured and was killed 
to “put it out of pain.” The creature was 
buried, where the fine court house now stands, 
and was shunned for years by youngsters as a 
weird spot haunted by the ghost of Belcher’s 
little dog. But neither ghost of man, woman 
or dog can stalk around with impunity, where 
the spirit of law holds court in the silence of 
night, in mimicry of noisy litigation. It might 
have been that an injunction was served on the 
canine spook that caused it to leave for parts 
unknown. 

I was spending at one time the Christmas 
holidays at the mouth of Elkhorn, with friends, 
enjoying mountain sports, and sharing in all the 
simple pleasures of young and old. A young 
man of the neighborhood was heels over head 
in love with a fine looking girl of Indian Creek, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


173 


Wyoming county. She was objected to by his 
parents, but love laughs at parental prohibition, 
as well as at locks and keys. I was well informed 
by the honest young fellow of the situation and 
I urged him to be true and faithful to the girl. 
He left but once while I was there, and on his 
return he told me there would be an elopement 
before long. 

Early on the last day of the year I was invited 
to go with a party of friends to a watch meet¬ 
ing, in which the last hours of the expiring year 
would be spent watching for the advent of the 
New Year. Snow had been intermittingly fall¬ 
ing for days, and a depth of a foot or more was 
in the valley. The meeting place was about six 
miles off, on a high mountain ridge. We started 
in the afternoon, and never shall I forget the 
hard tug we had to make the summit. Night 
fell on us when about half way up the mountain; 
the path deeply covered was easily found by my 
companions. The languid moonlight lying in 
the valley, made the scene look eerie; the wind 
was stirless, and the mountains held their breath 
lest a dream should disturb nature in her temple 
while celebrating the obsequies of the dying 
year. Above us the trees were robed in vestal 
white, and in the deep chasms on either side not 


174 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


a sound was heard to break the solemn silence. 
When we reached the summit a dead world lay 
around us. I wonder if so it will be when all the 
years are dead, and life with its hopes and 
dreams is lying in its white sepulchral shroud ? 
It cannot be so, for He who is the “resurrection 
and the life,” will come, and we will hear him 
say: “Arise! death is conquered; enter ye into 
eternal life." 

There were about thirty or so watchers in the 
house before us, and through the night we num¬ 
bered about fifty. The men were on one side, 
the women on the other side, and a huge log fire 
gave sufficient heat to make us comfortable. A 
venerable old man, with long, white beard, sat 
behind the desk and conducted the simple, affect¬ 
ing services. He led in prayer, in such a rev¬ 
erent, solemn manner that every heart was 
touched. His allusions to the dying year; the 
departed friends who left within its time ; the 
changes, the joys and the sorrows, brought tears 
to every eye. When the prayer was ended he 
called on all present to stand up and sing a song, 
which he intoned. I was astonished ; I expected 
to see a gossiping crowd, without religious ser¬ 
vices or serious thought. After singing, the old 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


175 


man addressed his attentive congregation on the 
shortness of time, the certainty of death, and the 
duration of eternity. He eloquently described 
the pleasures of a well-spent life ; truth, purity 
and charity he impressed on the minds of his 
hearers, and strongly urged his dear friends to 
shun bad company, to practice good manners, 
and to be kindly disposed to one another. Sing¬ 
ing and praying went on until midnight. The 
old man tapped the desk with his cane, and all 
knelt. Not a word or sigh was heard—the pulse 
of time ceased to beat, and as the watch held by 
the venerable leader told the hour of twelve, 
another tap on the desk was heard, and all 
present rose to their feet to sing a song of joyful 
greeting to the new-born year. 

At three o’clock in the morning we separated, 
all well pleased and happy. When outside the 
house, a man much excited brought the news 
that Tom Collis and his sweetheart had fled 
and went in the direction of Tazewell county. 
I well knew they would not go in that direction. 
Parties went different ways after them, and 
then when seemingly too late, Toms parents 
relented. I struck out for Elkhorn alone, and 
had not gone more than two miles when I heard 


176 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


Tom in a low voice calling to me from behind a 
huge fallen tree. The young woman was near 
at hand, and I successfully urged them to come 
with me to the Collis home. There was much 
rejoicing over their return. Next day Mr. Collis 
went to Perryville for a marriage license, and 
the second day after the happy twain were made 
one. Tom Collis I am informed is comfortable 
and respected, but many of those who were that 
night at the watch meeting have passed away. 

A few years ago I went by the old meeting 
house; it was in ruins, the logs were all rotting 
away, and. the fireplace choked up with mould¬ 
ering debris. Where was the good, “old man 
eloquent ? ”—he who on that night long ago 
filled my heart with longings for a better life— 
where is he ? In heaven surely, for a purer soul 
than his seldom passed up the star-lit avenue 
to the land of God. I remained there until 
night, hoping that the noon would shine out on 
mountain and valley again. The streams were 
all flush, and the forests dark with their glorious 
foliage. The vision of death was gone—the 
deep glens were lit up by wandering beams of 
light, and the mountain ridges were aglow with 
the soft radiance of the autumn moon and the 
stars. 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


177 


I sat on a rock for a while, and I prayed for a 
home in the valley of peace where angels hold 
watch meetings for the new born year of life 
and love eternal. 





12 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


LOST VOCATIONS. 

It is a sad thing to see so many men and 
women wearing their lives out, sighing or fret¬ 
ting for opportunity to accomplish a purpose, 
and give sluggish thought bent in some great 
enterprise, but the opportunity is close by wait¬ 
ing for courage and energy. The shores of time 
are covered with wrecks of hope, and all because 
we do not embrace the hour and use it as best 
we may. Everywhere there is something to be 
done, for the mind is never at rest, and is 
always suggesting some new design for honest 
labor. One thought produces another thought, 
and no work begun is ever finished in this world. 
If Columbus sat down with his wild dreams of 
adventure, wishing and praying for a favorable 
opportunity, he never would have crossed the 
Atlantic ocean. His will found the opportunity 
and courage, assisted by God, won success. 
“There is no such thing as failure" was an 
adage of the great Napoleon. Effort is never 
lost in the direction of honorable aim. It is a 
law of our being that one begins for others to 
continue, and in that law opportunity is ever 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


179 


. - • '' 

present to those who are willing to think and 

act for themselves and for posterity. ‘ ‘ 0 if I 
had the opportunity! ” exclaims a whittling 
philosopher, “ the vital spark within me would 
have dazzled the world. ” The world does not 
want to be dazzled—it has light enough, but if 
the little spark would shine out along a plow 
handle, or any other implement of labor, the 
world would thank him for his contribution to its 
wealth and to the comfort of society. It is not 
vital, glinting little sparks, but vital thoughts, 
vital morality and vital manhood, that is most 
needed. The man or woman who has no will 
requires no opportunity. 

Opportunity is present but what is to be done 

% 

for vocation ? It is found one day and lost the 
next. It appears in the future a splendid vision 
of fame, and when we go to embrace it, it 
flies back to the spot from which we started. 
The world is wasting its energies running after 
illusions, and not until we are unable to walk or 
run, do we learn that vocation is in the mind. 
It is not at all necessary that we wait for a call, 
the rule of action is in the will ready to guide 
and help when we are ready to do our present 
duty. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, 
do it with thy might." There is no time but the 


180 WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 

present in human life, and it is hardly worth our 
while to be striving for what may lie beyond— 
unless we strive for the eternal present, where 
God is life and love and truth. 

The great builders of civilization in the past, 
began at the foundation; each had his special 
work to do, and nothing was left undone to mar 
the fair proportions of the structure. In these 
days we know not where to begin, nor what to 
do, and our civilization is left for completion to 
confused thought and vapid action. No man 
ought boast of his individual liberty who is lack¬ 
ing in self-reliance. It is not from this political 
party, nor from that other political party, the 
besetting evils of society come, but from the 
large population of indolent non-producers, who 
are ever waiting or looking for a suitable voca¬ 
tion. It is this very element standing between 
labor and capital that keeps these two necessary 
forces of national, industrial life, so very far apart. 

Everywhere in this grand country the doleful 
cry goes up: “I lost my vocation.” Every day 
thousands, nay millions, are hoping but never 
trying to find it. Webster once said, speaking 
of his profession—the law: “There’s room 
enough at the top,” and ever since, young men 
have been locating their vocation up among the 
clouds. There is more room at the bottom, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


181 


down where intellect has to be developed and 
disciplined by dint of patient, honest labor. 
The professions are all inviting, but while many 
are called, few, very few, are chosen. An old 
lady once said, after reading some verses of Dr. 
Watts, “ I had when young a strong desire to 
compose poetry. I tried my hand and failed 
and in good time learned that my vocation was 
in the kitchen, the garden, the dairy, and knit¬ 
ting or mending socks or stockings. ” 

Our young men and young women ought 
bestir themselves in the way of searching for 
their lost vocations. ‘ ‘ Seek and you shall find ” 
is a divine truth, spoken by Christ. In the 
workshop, the mines, the forest, wherever labor 
may be employed, these vocation can be found. 
Sons of farmers will find, if they seek, their 
lost vocations on the farm where they played in 
childhood. At the plow the inspiration may 
come to lift your soul up nearer to God and to 
humanity. Young women will find their voca¬ 
tion in the dear old home, helping mothers in 
the performance of household duties, visiting the 
sick and giving courage to those of weak faith. 

‘ ‘ Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with 
thy might.” The vocation of every life lies 
between the willing heart and God. 


CHAPTER XXXV 

MONUMENTS-PAGAN AND CHRISTIAN. 

There is in every mans mind, however igno¬ 
rant he may be, an idea of immortality that is 
sure to shoot out one time or another. He may 
try to persuade himself that it is a delusion, but 
the thought of death strangles the effort, and he 
feels himself involved in the great mystery of 
life. Does life end in what we call death ? If 
so, its purpose will remain unfinished, and what 
comes of the mind with its vast schemes and 
free and boundless range of thought ? If a man 
cannot find out whence life came, cannot go back 
to the beginning, how can he know where or how, 
if ever, it will end? The infidel is anxious to 
win a great name, but if in this world life is all it 
can be, and there is no other world for man, 
what can name or fame be to him ? His child 
dies—his only child, a lovely little girl, and he 
erects a monument over her inanimate dust. 
Looking at her grave he asks himself: ‘ ‘ Where 
is her smile, where her pleasant voice ? ” and a 
voice within him asks: “Where?” Death 
came to himself, and name and fame were un¬ 
known. He willed that a grand monument be 
raised over his dust also. The little girl when 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


183 


dying thought of her dead mother and called to 
her ; he when dying thought of his wife and 
child, and tenderly breathed their names. It 
was the law of continuity. The remembrance of 
wife and child was a pathetic proof of their pres¬ 
ence somewhere, and the wish to have a costly 
monument cast a reflection beyond time into 
into eternity. 

Egypt is the monumental land of antiquity, 
but its monuments are as silent as the Sphinx, 
yet eloquent in their silence of times, evanescent 
glory that has in every age its day, and is lost 
for ever more. A monarch must have his name 
perpetuated through all future time—he built 
Cheops, but the name of the king has been 
swallowed up in oblivion. All the wonderful 
monuments in the valley of the Nile—all its 
temples are monuments—stand in awful splen¬ 
dor, marked by their shadows and flouted by the 

winds of heaven. They seem to say, ‘ ‘ Man had 
his dream of glory here ? Where is he now and 
where are they ? ” Vanity, vanity, and all is 
vanity. What high hopes and magnificent ambi¬ 
tion swayed the minds of the great men of old ! 
Fame and glory were with them the great ob¬ 
jects of life. The true, the good, the pure were 
despised, and will be to the end ; while deeds of 



184 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


blood and slaughter of man by man constituted 
then as now the strongest claim to the homage 
of the age. They had monuments erected to keep 
their glory from mildew. History was unborn 
in those days, and time the ruthless inconoclast 
came along and tore from the granite the record 
of name and fame. Imperial Rome had her 
monuments also ; Pompey has a pillar and Tra¬ 
jan has a pillar also. We go to history for their 
achievements, but in it we cannot see despoiled 
nations ; we hear not the wail of the widow nor 
the cry of the orphan. The Egypt of antiquity 
is no more. Imperial Rome is dead and buried, 
but the building of monuments has not ceased. 
France has given columns to Napoleon and to 
Turenne, and England honors her dead heroes— 
if it is known—with costly shaft and splendid 
cenotaph. America goes beyond all in the erec¬ 
tion of costly monuments,—monuments in every 
city—monuments on battlefields—monuments 
everywhere. This monument craze brings to my 
mind the bitter disappointment of a gifted Amer¬ 
ican author and his friends. They went up on a 
hill in Greece to see the grave of Themistocles. 
It was neatly fenced, and as they got within the 
enclosure to read the epitaph of the great Greek, 
what was their surprise to read: “To the 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


185 


Memory of John Johnson, Tailor, of London," 
&c. One would think that in this country the vul¬ 
garity of pride would be checked, by some means 
or other, and that the simple sepulture known to 
our fathers would be good enough for all. 
The green grave on the hillside is the dearest 
grave that can be made. To paganism we are 
indebted for monument building. He who has 
done but little for humanity in the ways of peace, 
justice and charity, need not depend on a grand 
mausoleum or a lying page of history to trans¬ 
mit his name to posterity. The structure may 
stand for some time, and the lie of history hold 
its place, but the loving heart of humanity, creat¬ 
ing truth and justice, will pass the dull trophy 
of pride coldly by, and leave to history the dead 
evidence of its shame. 

We will go from the place of skulls into the 
light of truth. Yonder is a monumental temple 
to the glory and honor of God. How beautiful 
it looks in its faultless symmetry ! Within the 
sacred edifice there is no time, nothing but the 
life of eternal love and the light of eternal truth. 
Here the poor, weary heart finds rest, when it 
lays down pride and its passions at the foot of 
the Cross. It is the only refuge of humanity, 
because it is the temple of the God of justice 


186 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


and mere} 7 . In it there is no distinction, for 
Christ died for rich and poor, for the devoted 
Christian and the poor sinner alike. Such is one 
of the monuments erected by Christian love to 
the memory of Christ. It can never be de¬ 
stroyed, because it is built on the rock of divine 
truth. It would be a glorious thing to see people 
who profess to be Christians turn away from 
pagan customs and build monuments, for them¬ 
selves and their children to God. In our rural 
countries the dead rebuke us from their graves. 

Christian charity asks that an asylum be built 
for the aged poor, for the brothers and sisters of 
those afflicted ones, healed long ago by Christ. 
The blind, the lame, the diseased one tottering 
on the brink of the grave, beg the helping hand 
of religious sympathy to alleviate as much as 
possible their distress. It is to be another 
Christian monument reared above dead selfish¬ 
ness and pride. This is the work Christ wants 
us to do—these were his associates for whom he 
often wept. Paganism nor pagan-Christianity 
ever built a momument for as noble a purpose. 
The cost of that mausoleum you see, or of that 
bronze group close by would build a magnificent 
asylum, but the dime or dollar voluntarily 
bestowed by the ever generous hand of labor, will 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


187 


build an asylum whose apex will pierce the sky 
and touch the footstool of God. 

We must build another monument, a home 
for the orphan boys and girls—a home where 
religion will guide the heart and education take 
charge of the intellect. Without a home those 
boys and girls would be lost—lost to virtue, self- 
respect and God, and would be a curse to them¬ 
selves and to society. They belong to Christ, 
and how he loves them we may know from his 
own words: “Suffer little children to come unto 
Me.” This monument will be dedicated to 
Christ also. The influence of our orphan asy¬ 
lum will be felt in after ages, for it is from these 
waifs, men and women come forth with the cour¬ 
age of faith and the splendid force of developed 
intellect to left humanity up to a higher plane. 
The Christian monument is a design of God— 
true ideal of divine and human love. ‘ ‘ A monu¬ 
ment to what or whom ? ” some one asks. I 
reply, ‘ ‘ a monument over dead hatred and ill 
will, over buried covetousness. Its foundation 
is humility, its architect the Holy Ghost. 

There is another monument essentially Chris¬ 
tian to be erected, it will be a hospital for the 
poor. Turn not your heads aside, ye frivolous 
dupes of pride. The least of God’s afflicted 


188 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


children is better than any of you. Pagan- 
Christianity cannot think of such a thing as a 
hospital for the poor. Another mausoleum and 
dress parade are demanded to honor—what ? 
One it may be, like others, who never had 
human sympathy in his heart, nor on his tongue 
a kindly word for the poor and needy. Hospi¬ 
tals for the poor will continue to go up. Love 
and mercy plead for them; the compassionate 
angels of heaven will assist in their construction, 
and big-hearted Christian people will be always 
ready to respond to the sacred call of charity. 

Simple Christianity of the old style when con¬ 
trasted with our modern Pagan Christianity, 
looks healthy and pure. It is better to continue 
in the old simple ways of our fathers and be 
satisfied with a quiet, modest grave when we 
die, and a home in Heaven. 

But let nothing cause us to forget that our 
Christian monuments, the holy institutions of 
charity, are the glory of the Christian church. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 

THE FOURTH OF JULY. 

Last evening, while thinking of old friends 
and old times passed away, a pleasant recol¬ 
lection of the Fourth of July came to me. 
America in those days was the happiest coun¬ 
try in the world. So happy were the people 
that social distinctions never for a moment em¬ 
bittered their minds, and the fretful jealousies, 
so very common in these days, and always con¬ 
ducive to contention and ill-will, never annoyed 

them. 

A dozen or more friends—I among the num¬ 
ber—made up our minds to have a Fourth of 
July celebration of our own. The ladies of the 
party gave much attention and time to the pre¬ 
parations, and we were all intent on making the 
occasion as pleasant as possible. It was easy to 
find an appropriate place in Nicholas county 

then, and we selected a delightful grove close to 
Gauley in what is now called Fishtown. The 
cliffs below us were high and almost perpendicu¬ 
lar. The wild laurel was in flower, and the river 
fretted and foamed, forcing its way between im¬ 
mense rocks—“fragments of an earlier world,” 


190 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


while sun and shadow in the canyon divided the 
territory between them from mountain to moun¬ 
tain. Birds, dear, happy birds, were warbling 
around us, and the blue sky overhead was seen 
through the leafy screen of the forest. The 
grove was beautiful, trees laid out in order, by 
the hand of nature, and seats were neatly ar¬ 
ranged around a commodious rustic table. The 
hampers were full of good things; pies of various 
kinds, light bread and sweet cake ; chickens, yel¬ 
low, plump and fat ; mutton as sweet as ever 
frolicked on the braes of McKee’s creek, and 
ham that would moisten the teeth of an epicure. 
A dozen bottles of pure old rye were tenderly 
stowed away from baser communication. Pro¬ 
hibition was not born yet, nor was a dram of 
whiskey considered a greater crime than slander 
or murder. We had a chairman, as jolly as ever 
cracked a joke or drew a cork from prison. Al¬ 
though we had no prayer offered on the occasion, 
we had grateful hearts, and best of all, we loved 
one another. By the time we commenced exer¬ 
cises our party numbered about two dozen, with¬ 
out further increase for the remainder of the day, 
for which we were duly thankful. A trio, com¬ 
posed of a gentleman from Cross Lanes, a young 
lady from Laurel Creek and myself, sang the 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


191 


'‘Star Spangled Banner” in fine style. I sang 
base, and was highly complimented. One young 
lady asked me very sincerely if I had not taken 
lessons in a menagerie ? The chairman of good, 
old Revolutionary stock, suggested that we drink 
to the “ Star Spangled Banner,” and it was done 
in gushing style. Not a drop of the patriotic 
libation was lost. The remembrance of those pa¬ 
triotic days of old, stir up my cold, old heart 
to-day. Next came the reading of the Decla¬ 
ration of Independence, which evoked an enthu¬ 
siasm that I cannot describe. And those days 
are gone, and will they never return? 

The chairman rose with kindly eye and said: 
‘ ‘ The question before the chair is what shall be 
next?—dinner or the oration. For myself I pro¬ 
pose dinner, and for this reason it makes men 
and women more appreciable—more easily af¬ 
fected by oratory—all in favor of dinner and the 
etceteras, hold up their hands”—dinner has it, 
and now in the name of liberty let us decently 
begin. A couple of bottles were uncorked as a 
necessary preliminary, and after two drinks each, 
the carving and slashing began. The way in 
which that dinner disappeared would make a 
hungry railsplitter turn pale. As coffee was in¬ 
convenient, whiskey had to take its place, as 




192 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


suitable an arrangement as could be made. 
After dinner the orator of the day stood up, and 
went through a balancing exercise that was de¬ 
lightful. His oration was grand. The Revolu¬ 
tionary war was fought over! Liberty bell, the 
American Eagle, and the Stars and Stripes were 
each apostrophised with consuming eloquence. 
‘‘ It was a pity, ” he said, “to keep the American 
people chained down to peace, when in war we 
could whip a dozen worlds. ” The audience was 
wild; some loudly cheered, others shed tears— 
all patriotic of course. After the oration we had 
recitations, short speeches and songs, but my as¬ 
sistance as base singer was gently declined by 
all. A good fiddle and banjo were on hand, a 
stage was improvised, and the dancing com¬ 
menced. Jigs, reels, doubles and hornpipes 
went on into the night. Nothing in the world 
can equal the good, old muscular dancing. 
Empty bottles were replenished—how I never 
could find out—and while the fluid lasted the 
dancing never flagged. The hour of parting 
came ; the long pent-up souls broke out in wildest 
cheers, and Gauley, hushed with awe, wondered 
at the noise. The Fourth was over. O, the 
old time Fourth! when manhood and woman- 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


193 




hood were happy and not ashamed of their 
country! 

I made my way down the cliffs to the river, 
and sat at the foot of a huge boulder, from 
which I looked on the seething waters in the 
moonlight. It was a weird place, with its flit¬ 
ting shadows and dismal sounds. There are 
times in one’s life when supernatural thoughts 
come to the mind with gloomy prophecy, and do 
what we may, they cannot be dismissed by any 
effort of the will. They came there to me that 
night. My heart grew sad under the spell, and 
I wished I had left with my happy associates. I 
remained by the river until the early dawn of the 
morning. Forty years have passed since that 
pleasant Fourth of July, and to-day I wonder 
where are they who were with me there. Some 
have wandered away from home and friends; 
others have gone out by slow decay, a few only 
remain, and they will soon be removed. The 
strings of the fiddle and banjo are broken for 
ever, and the soul of music lies hushed in the 
lonesome hall of silence. The dance is over, 
and the bottles are empty still. But the Gauley 
river frets as it forces its way between the rocks ; 
the shadows play in moonlight nights as they did 


13 


194 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


long, long ago, and the graves of the dead are 
still as the spirit of peace. 

So do we fret and fume as we pass away down 
to the deep sea, and there in the hush of the 
soul, we take a last look on the record of mem¬ 
ory and pass to the other shore. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

WAR. 

It is not easy to see how civilization can exist 
as long as war is regarded as the arbiter of 
nations. Great armaments are the embodi¬ 
ment of might and the only enslaver of mankind. 
War is claimed to be a necessary evil, but it is 
unreasonable to think that evil can, in any way 
be necessary. Nations as well as individuals 
ought to be tried for alleged offenses, and to 
this end an international high court of arbitra¬ 
tion should be established. Two nations are at 
variance; is the stronger right because the 
weaker has to submit ? There would be no 
justice in this; it would be an act in accord with 
the old brutal law of might. Great armaments 
may enrich a few and increase national territory, 
but the toiling masses have to support them. 
What right had Napoleon to invade different 
nations of continental Europe ? None whatever. 
What right had Russia, Prussia and Austria to 
dismember Poland, and blot her name out from 
the map of Europe ? The right of the mur¬ 
derer to strike dead the man he robs. Military 
life has an attraction, but glory perches only on 
bloody banners of victory. Suwarrow mounts 


196 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


the height of fame, while the noble Kossiusko 
dies in poverty and exile. How much better for 
England if she were less embarrassed by her 
ignoble conquests, and would appropriate some 
of the many millions of pounds sterling spent on 
her army and navy, on charitable institutions 
for her poor and destitute, and for industrial 
education. 

Between the law that “might makes right,” 
and the law preached by Jesus Christ, there is 
no middle ground, and until we recognize the 
truth that nations as well as individuals ought 
be governed by justice, there can be no peace, 
and our progress in civilization is a lie. “ Jus¬ 
tice’ ’ said Theodore Parker, “is the keynote of 
the world, and all else is out of tune.” The dis¬ 
dain of life belongs to military civilization, and 
the worship of force is its only religion. Many 
tens of thousands of lives may } r et be destroyed 
in Africa by the great armies of Europe, before 
the division of that continent is settled among 
the robbers. Why not leave Africa to herself, and 
instead of war, send to her industrious colonies, 
missionairies of peace and the“civilizing forces 
of religion, education and art ? O the shame 
of it; to see the armed bully waging war against 
a weak neighbor, and hear him [vindicate his 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


197 


cowardice as the friend of humanity ! So it was 
that England went to India, with a sword in one 
hand and the Bible in the other, and more by 
cold-hearted treachery and cunning than by 
brave-handed valor, became mistress of the rich 
land. The armaments of the world are increas¬ 
ing; the law of might is again the law of right— 
and anarchy is increasing also. Force against 
force, might against might, but God is moving 
in his own mysterious way, and justice will come 
forth from the merciless conflict, the glorious 
harbinger of peace and love. 

There is sullen, wild unrest among the peo¬ 
ples of Europe, and but little respect for law or 
authority. When the question is asked: From 
what source come the means of building great 
navies, and who supports, clothes and equips 
over 8,000,000 of stalwart men now resting on 
their arms, and waiting for orders ? The answer 
is the working masses. Can any man have respect 
for law or government that takes from him to 
support armies and navies what his family needs 
at home ? Ambition and covetousness blind 
the rulers of the world, and martial glory becomes 
the foster-brother of anarchy. There is a law 
of compensation that may be deferred for a time, 
but it holds good in the mind of God. 


198 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


When the Spartan mother told her son to 
return to her either victorious or dead on his 
shield, it was love of native land—love of home 
that inspired her. But what could induce a 
poor woman in Europe to glory in the victory 
or death of her son ? Home-love does not want 
war, those who cultivate their fields, will not 
use their brother’s blood as a fertilizer. War ! 
war !—it is the slogan of the savage panting for 
gore: O the desolation and ruin it has wrought 
—the want and suffering and sorrow it has 
brought to the world! Valley and plain devas¬ 
tated by the conqueror’s march, and the cottage 
where love and peace dwelt a black mass of 
embers. Age and youth fall before this simoom 
of glory. And this is gloty ! and this is fame ! 
War ! away with it; bury it down in the deepest 
hell that it may never more offend the eye of a 
patient God, nor rend the hoping, loving heart 
of humanity. 

Previous to the American Revolution the 
people had no thought of resorting to war. 
They petitioned the British throne for justice, 
and were refused; they protested against en¬ 
croachments on their natural rights, and were 
insulted. The war of the Revolution came. 
Great Britain had no right to the colonies, either 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


199 


by discovery or conquest, and those living on the 
land had the only claim to it. They did 
not make war on Great Britain. They but de¬ 
fended their rights. Washington, calm, wise 
and heroic, came to the front, and through the 
long struggle proved himself to be eminently 
worthy the confidence reposed in him. After 
the war he returned to his home in Mount Ver¬ 
non. What he might have been were he selfish 
in his ambitions, it is easy to guess. He was 
President for two terms, and refused a third, 
and again returned to his home, where he died. 
He neglected no opportunity to impress on the 
mind of his country the danger of foreign alli¬ 
ances—of their dangerous complications, which 
weak-minded men are always willing to take 
part in. The other illustrious men of those days 
forcibly urged Washington's advice. It is re¬ 
markable that not one of the distinguished gen¬ 
erals of the Revolutionary war ever wished for 
further military service, and that the statesmen 
of that time confined themselves to the work of 
strengthening the new Republic and its great in¬ 
stitutions. Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Jay, 
were regarded in Europe as colossal statesmen. 
The principles propagated by them live to-day 
as monuments of their wisdom. 



200 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


It is the duty of America to declare for peace, 
and adhere to the wise counsels bequeathed by 
Washington. Instead of going to London, Paris 
or Berlin to learn diplomacy, it would be far 
more sensible to go back and study carefully the 
principles of the statesmen of our early history. 
Our little, great men of the present day are itch¬ 
ing for renown. They want to cope with Eng¬ 
land— in truth there are those who desire an 
alliance with her. The rank Toryism of the 
Revolutionary period is cropping out strongly 
among them. American principles, one would 
think would be good enough. We do not need 
a cold-blooded Bismarck; he loved imperialism 
and despised the people,—and we have hardly 
room enough for a Salisbury. 

Let us make the homes of the people happy 
and cheerful, and recall the past with its beauti¬ 
ful simplicity and strong faith. Leave Europe 
to herself, leave Asia to herself, leave Africa to 
herself, and bind in one confederacy or zolv- 
rem, the republics of the American continent. 
Washington was a man of peace and a lover of 
home institutions; so were all our great and 
good men. 

Let us stand up for peace and international 
arbitration, and God will most assuredlv bless us. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


THE BAPTISM. 

A series of religious meetings had been going 
on along the range of the Guyandotte Moun¬ 
tain, in the glen valleys on either side, directed 
by preachers of the Baptist church. Out on the 
head waters of the Guyandotte river, not far 
from Flat Top, I was staying at the house of 
Jack Farley, a Confederate veteran, big and 
brawny, and generous hearted as man could be. 
He was on the rough order, ever ready for a 
fight, was a lover of whiskey, and not over 
choice in language, but in every other respect 
he was almost faultless. Sham he abhorred, 
and always went in for the weak against the 
strong, when it was right to do so. He was a 
fond husband and father, and his wife and chil¬ 
dren stood high in their community. Mrs. Far¬ 
ley was from Old Virginia, well enough educated, 
and strongly imbued with religious feeling. Her 
children were of her stamp, and this was the one 
great pleasure in Jack's life. He was to some 
extent a free thinker, or, I might have said, an 
undveloped infidel, but he always spoke rever¬ 
ently of his deceased mother and father, who 
were both good religious people. 


202 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


I went out with Jack one morning to hunt. 
We traveled over rough places that day, and in 
the evening found ourselves in a wild, pictu¬ 
resque glen called the Gulf. We selected a 
comfortable camping ground, and there made 
ourselves comfortable as possible. The moun¬ 
tains on either side were high—one in the moon¬ 
light and one in the shade, and the stream 
crooned its old unforgotten song as it flowed 
away to the river. It was a solemn night, a 
night when God in such a place speaks to the 
soul of man. As we were smoking our pipes, 
after the evening meal, Jack remarked : “ ’Tis 

too bad, my wife and the children will be pray¬ 
ing for me to-night at meeting, while I, poor 
wretch! have no thought for myself—too bad, 
isn’t it!” “Well,” said I, “it is not too late to 
mend. I believe their prayers are heard ; let us 
go and join them to-morrow night. Do not any 
longer close your heart to the entreaties of your 
wife and to the call of God. ” He was silent a mo¬ 
ment. “I was always,” said he, “ready and 
willing in the war to obey the command of my 
superiors; why should I now refuse to obey my 
God. We will be with them to-morrow night.” 
A smile passed over the face of the mountain 
fronting us ; the stream sang a song of joy, and 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


203 


the moon sent down her beams to play with the 
fallen leaves and kiss the white lips of the rills. 
The words of Peter on the Mount of Transfigu¬ 
ration came to my mind “It is good, Lord, to 
be here.” Before the noon of next day we ar¬ 
rived home. At dinner Jack informed his wife 
that he and I would be with her and the children 
to meeting. She looked astonished, and the boy 
and girl fixed their eyes in amazement on their 
father’s face.” “It is better late than never,” I 
remarked.” “It is never late with God,” said 
Mrs. Farley. We were ready for a timely start. 
Jack and his wife walked together, and I be¬ 
tween Rebecca and Tom. It was four miles to 
the meeting house—four long miles, though Mrs. 
Farley told me next day it did not seem more 
than one mile to her. The meeting house was 
nearly full; two preachers occupied seats behind 
the desk, and immediately after our arrival one 
of them gave out a hymn. It was sung lustily, 
and awakened a spirit that soon manifested itself. 
When the preacher of the night read his text, I 
saw that he was bent on his work. The sermon 
suited the congregation, but to me it appeared 
plain that the most effective part of it had a spe¬ 
cial direction. Jack Farley felt so too, for I 
saw him tremble under the strong arraignment 


204 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


of evil, and I knew that the arrow struck his 
heart. The excitement was intense, and Jack 
capitulated, not to the enemy, but to the 

ambassador of God. With head erect and 

# 

flashing eye, he stepped to the front, grasped 
the preacher’s hand, and in a loud stern voice 
exclaimed: “I surrender—I surrender to my 
God. ” Loud exclamations went up from joyful 
souls. Others also came forward and gave each 
a hand to the preacher, but the happiest persons 
in the house were Mrs. Farley, Rebecca and 
Tom. Our walk homeward was a silent one, 
we were all too full of happy thoughts to speak. 

Jack Farley’s conversion was complete. 
The Sunday following the big meeting, twelve 
or fourteen converts were to be baptized. This 
was to be the capsheaf of Jack’s glory. Like a 
child he submitted to his wife’s guidance; he did 
not mope nor moan, he had a duty to perform, 
and he was determined to see it through. Sun¬ 
day morning came, the first Sunday in Novem¬ 
ber. Everything looked beautiful, the forest 
leaves were falling yet like gems of many colors 
to the earth; the sun shone in mellow splendor; 
the great mountains were wrapt in contempla¬ 
tion, and the bright Guyandotte flowed away 
like a dream of peace, passing through the mind. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


205 


From Mercer, Raleigh, McDowell and Wyoming 
counties, came good old time Christians to see 
the solemn baptismal rite performed. From 
the meeting house the concourse marched in 
procession, and as the place selected was 
approached, with one accord they song: “The 
beautiful, bright river. ” It was a soul-inspiring 
scene. As the preacher led into the water the 
first to be immersed, “On Jordan’s stormy 
banks’’went up from the crowd, with hearty 
joy, and was continued until the last person— 
Jack Farley—was baptized. To me Jack 
appeared a new creature, morally and physic¬ 
ally. As he came up out of the water, he raised 
his splendid eyes to heaven; tears were running 
down his cheeks, and what he said—for his lips 
moved, was heard only by the angels of God. 
Approaching his wife, he smiled, and clasping 
her to his bosom, sobbed like a child. ‘ * Rock 
of ages cleft for me,” wakened the mountains 
from their trance, and passing echoes sent up 
the strain from the river to the eternal temple 
above. The preacher devoutly pronounced a 
blessing and the delighted crowd dispersed. 
One’s life could not hold in remembrance a scene 
more grand or a happier day. 

A week or so after the baptism Jack told us 


206 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


that he had to go to the Gulf, and asked his wife, 
children and me to accompany him. ‘ ‘ I want, ” 
said he, “ to spend a night on the spot where 
God called me to him." It was no whim;it was 
an inspiration of love and gratitude. A neigh¬ 
bor consented to take care of the house and 
stock in our absence. We started early on the 
dreary journey before us, and night was falling 
when we reached the place Through the day 
angry clouds were flying across the sky, like 
wild steeds across a desert, but as night came, 
dark, heavy clouds took their place, and up on 
the mountain ranges we heard the ominous voice 
of an approaching storm. We had a safe shel¬ 
ter, and the storm did not last long. After eat¬ 
ing, a song was sung; one of those quaint melo¬ 
dies, sad, low and sweet, loved so much by the 
children of the mountains. Jack prayed, thank¬ 
ing God for his mercy, manifested on that very 
spot a few weeks before. Mrs. Farley, Rebecca 
and Tom were never they said nearer heaven 
before. I looked on and listened, listened to 
the storm down below, so have I listened many 
a night in gloomier places than the Gulf, for some 
message from heaven—for ‘ ‘ the touch of a van¬ 
ished hand,” and a voice that left me long ago 
in the silence of the night. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


207 


A few years after Jack’s conversion Mrs. Far¬ 
ley died. Her body was taken to the family 
graveyard in Grayson county, Virginia. Since 
then he has been living with Rebecca and her 
husband, not far from the resting place of his 
wife, and Tom was down South, a minister of 
the Gospel. When last I saw Jack, he was old 
and white-headed like myself. He loves to 
speak of the beautiful river, and the honest 
home-loving people along its hillsides and val¬ 
leys. He had never forgotten our first night in 
the gulf; but when the old home rises up in 
memory, his lovely wife Kate falls into his arms, 
and she whispers: “Dear Jack, will you ever 
forget the old meeting house, or that happiest 
Sunday of my life when you were baptized in 
that dear, bright Jordan of my dreams—the 
Guyandotte ? I am waiting for you—for you 
and the others so dear to us both.” 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

PROFESSIONAL POLITICIANS 

Every man has a right to be a politician, i. e., 
to understand the science of government in all 
its relations to society. But as all men cannot 
be statesmen, it is necessary that they know 
enough of politics to elect such men to office as 
are honest, moral and capable. We should have 
always in view the good of all the people, and 
this consideration ought to be enough to guide 
us conscientiously in the discharge of our duty. 
In former days the office sought the man, to-day 
the man seeks the office. In those days none 
but men well known for their fitness would be 
elected: in these days the better element must 
stand aside to make room for an inferior grade 
of manhood. There are as good men to-day in 
America, and many of them as there ever has 
been, but we have now more of ambitious ignor¬ 
ance and turbulent audacity, than ever before. 
Selfishness is never scrupulous, and any means, 
however low and vile, may be used without any 
fear of public censure or condemnation. There 
must be a cause for all this. It cannot be found 
in the organic law of the land no more than lib¬ 
erty to lie can be found in the ten command¬ 
ments. 


wayside: thoughts. 


209 


A look at society will be enough to reveal a 
good deal of the cause of political corruption. 
The professions are overcrowded. Take for 
instance law in which thousands who cannot 
climb up to Daniel Webster’s attic or earn salt 
enough for their porridge, throw themselves into 
politics, regarding the office seeker or party as a 
client that may bring a good fee. In every 
county of every state such men are to be found. 
They try to control conventions, and are the 
most noisy, emptyheaded demagogues of all. 
Many—nearly all of those fellows are employed 
in every campaign—all bristling patriots—by 
men whose audacious ignorance is a nuisance to 
society. The genteel loafers send out a good many 
pestilent politicians who are always in the market 
for sale. Young men who have been graduated 
at some high school or college, after a short 
term, and have studied elocution in local lyce- 
ums, are ready at all times to fill an engagement 
as public political speakers. If these are signs 
of progress, of a superior civilization, and all 
that go to make a country great, we are on 
the high road to supreme success. True it is 
that “coming events cast their shadows before.” 

The political party in power is, in campaign 
work, a generous patron of professional politi- 

14 


210 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


cians, beside having under its control, United 
States marshals, and deputy marshals, men 
rewarded with office for past services. These 
and detectives, not only are active politicians, but 
use official authority to support by vilest means 
the interests of their party. These professional 
politicians, all, are the bulwark of the constitu¬ 
tion and guardians of the country’s liberty. 
Bad as they are, they are not half as bad as the 
unprincipled parties who employ them. This 
thing of taking advantage of impecuniuous young 
men is a sad commentary on our national honor. 
What a crime to insult and degrade a noble 
country by such low methods and vile means. 
Law cannot be appealed to, for political corrup¬ 
tion has befouled the ermine, and judges have 
been foisted on the bench by debasing influences, 
many of whom are socially not recognized as 
decent or honest. Such are the effects of our 
present political system, but what the ultimate 
result may be one has scarcely courage enough 
to contemplate. Heaven may avert the danger 
at present menacing the country, but a people 
who court ruin are seldom intercepted on their 
downward course by the hand of God. How 
debasing to manhood is this thing of voluntarily 
going down so low! There is virtue enough in 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


211 


this country to save the government and insti¬ 
tutions, so long and dearly loved by the people, 
from all base defilements. How any man a 
candidate for president, for congress, governor 
or a state legislator, can resort to such methods, 
it is hard for respectable people to know, but 
that such men have been so corrupting the high¬ 
est offices, cannot be fairly denied. Such con¬ 
duct is more dangerous—a hundred times more, 
than if the two greatest powers of the world 
threatened us with a war of invasion. When 
men are employed to corrupt the ballot, and 
conscience and honor are regarded as market¬ 
able commodities, the great body of the honest, 
true-hearted people should take the work of 
reform in their hands, and put an end to all such 
treasonable practices. 

The Republic was founded on just principles 
and only by just principles can it be maintained. 




CHAPTER XL. 

FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. 

Freedom of the press is an essential right, as 
long as the press is devoted to the vigilant duty 
of defending justice and exposing everything 
tending to the injury of morals and subversion 
of law and order. As censor or teacher, the 
press has its limits prescribed by the rules of 
social duty. If it becomes arbitrary or unjust 
in its criticisms, or in its moral principles, it 
should be halted by the law and forced to sub¬ 
mit to the established proprieties of public life. 
That the American newspaper press abuses its 
freedom is painfully apparent. In politics it 
throws away all proper restraint, and rejects 
veracity as an impediment to individual success. 
There are, of course, newspapers in America that 
would not, for any consideration, suffer a stain 
to rest on their honor, but they are very few, 
indeed. The censor ought to be free of re¬ 
proach, and the teacher should come to his work 
with a clear mind and honest good heart. How 
can a man in social life expect to be believed, 
when in public life, in the performance of a pub¬ 
lic duty, he earns a reputation for falsehood ? 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


213 


Nothing can compensate a man for the loss of 
honor, and it would be almost impossible for him 
to rebuild a reputation that has been dragged 
through the mire of political indecency. A 
touch of despotism would not be out of place 
occasionally, but danger would be unavoidable 
if the despot should be a little too partial. 

Every principle of the Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence, and every article of the Constitution, 
should be guarded by the press, and no abuse of 
one or violation of the other, be suffered to es¬ 
cape exposure. But how often are both sneered 
at or abused in leading papers, as old mossy 
relics out of date. It must be admitted that 
the intellectual powers of the press are too ir¬ 
regular and diminishing. What large sums of 
money are paid for sensational lies ! A tale of 
scandal about some young woman has been 
vented, and when elaborately dressed up is 
flashed on the public eye, regardless of the in¬ 
jury it does and the pain it inflicts. Every cess¬ 
pool of shame is searched for a fresh scandal, 
and nor age nor youth can escape the putrid 
nighthawks of the press. In war, in peace, in 
church and in state, they dominate every shad¬ 
owy quarter, and cancel every obligation to be 
just and decent. The American press canndt 


214 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


be said, at home or abroad, to represent decent, 
intelligent Americans. It is mercenary to a se¬ 
rious extent, and while it brazenly boasts of its 
freedom, it cannot dare to say a word of its inde¬ 
pendence. As before said, all our newspapers 
are not of this stamp. 

A great deal of energy that could have been 
better employed, is daily exhausting itself in the 
work of “keeping the party together.” There 
is no thought of the country, it is the party, ever 
and always. It is both ludicrous and sad to 
see how the press, for the past twelve years, has 
been tearing to pieces the tariff and the money 
questions. What quotations and figures and elo¬ 
quent denunciations of ignorance ! To-day the 
great mass of the people are as much in the dark 
on great issues as they were before the newspa¬ 
per economists began their labors by incandes¬ 
cent contradictions. If some daring adventurer 
undertakes anothor arctic trip, our newspapers 
in advance outline the course to be pursued, 
locate every iceberg and floe, and make the 
journey safe and pleasant. In our late war—for 
humanity—their knowledge of Cuba is the mys¬ 
tery of the age. Army and navy were both 
indebted to them, and the President had no oc¬ 
casion to “take thought of the morrow,” for a 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


215 


great paper took him in hand and left nothing 
undone in the way of enlightening him and his 
cabinet. It was a newspaper correspondent 
that caused Dewey to throw into the sea his 
sealed instructions and follow him to Manila 
bay. A newspaper man undertook to hypno¬ 
tize the Sultan, and might have succeeded, but 
one of the ladies of the harem took him by the 
back of the neck and kicked him out of the 
seraglio. 

In literature a lie will stand to be scorned and 
despised by clear intelligence. It will be con¬ 
tradicted by its environments, and is in the pil- 
ory a perpetual disgrace to its authors. The 
prejudices of Macaulay have been a blemish in 
his history of England. Gibbon in his Roman 
empire treated Christianity with injustice—and 
so on. The lie of history has crept into general 
literature, found its way into theology, and has 
been hard at work to imbed itself in science. 
But the newspaper lie is a fecund little parasite, 
harder to be destroyed than trichina in the hog. 
It is troublesome, irritates for the time and often 
leads to violence. The lie of history is fixed on 
some great event on national dislike, or is used 
to defraud genius of its reward and mankind of 
justice. Is it any wonder that Horace Walpole 


216 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS 


designated history a lie. But the newspaper lie 
worms itself into the home of rich or poor; has 
no respect of age or youth, and poisons domestic 
bliss in the heart’s purest love. It rankles dur¬ 
ing life and ceases to annoy only when life is 
extinct. O how many have been driven to des¬ 
peration, to outlawry or a life of shame by news¬ 
paper lies. 

And yet the press is guilty of a greater offense. 
The caricature is its lowest disgrace. It is the 
abominable art-lie of the newspaper, low, vulgar 
and indecent. A gentleman is out for the United 
States Senate, for congress or some other high 
office. At once the newspapers opposed to him 
publish a caricature laughable to the lewd crea¬ 
tures who love such things. Every such distor¬ 
tion is an insult to our national reputation. A 
newspaper is placed in a lady’s hand, or she sees 
in a bookstore window or on a public news stand, 
a plate in “Judge” or some other publication of 
that class, her husband whom she truly loves 
foully caricatured. Her sons and daughters see 
the same. What have they done to deserve 
such an insult ? O how the savage, brutal 
wrong rankles in their hearts and how the soul¬ 
less crowd enjoys the cruelty? Why do we 
prate about respect for women, when good, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


217 


pure respectable ladies are treated in this man¬ 
ner, every week without any protest from the 
public ? The wretch who would hurt the feel¬ 
ings of a child by causelessly insulting a loved 
parent, has no human feeling in his heart. A 
gentleman would not hurt the feelings of any 
one. Is the spirit of chivalry dead for ever¬ 
more, that for a political end honor, truth and 
love must be outraged ? O the caricature ! the 
vile appeal of the coward for applause—the art 
slander hurled into the midst of a family to des¬ 
troy its peace. A National Press Association 
should be organized, and wilful lies and carica¬ 
tures crushed out from a useful, honorable craft. 
The press needs purification, and the sooner it 
takes place the better for public decency and 
public honor. The press to be free must be 
truthful, and to be useful it must be honorable. 






CHAPTER XLI. 

DEMOCRACY AND LIBERTY. 

William Edward Hartpole Lesky, author of 
“The History of England” and “The History 
of European Morals,” is also the author of an¬ 
other book—his latest—“Democracy and Lib¬ 
erty.” His departure from the field of history, 
in which he has been very successful, has aston¬ 
ished his friends and admirers. At a time when 
he was up to his chin in his historic studies, a 
Mr. Greg said to him that he could not under¬ 
stand how any man could devote his days to the 
departed past, when there were around him, on 
every side contemporaneous matters of such ab¬ 
sorbing interest. Lesky took the hint, and the 
Irish University, which he represents in the Im¬ 
perial Parliament, and is conservative^ Tory to 
the backbone, applauded the work of their dis¬ 
tinguished representative. Lesky’s History of 
England is more cautiously written than Macau¬ 
lay’s history, but the same two predominant 
principles are imbedded in both—an aristocratic 
government and a State church. In his “De¬ 
mocracy and Liberty,” one is at a loss to under¬ 
stand how a man so profoundly learned could be 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


219 


so shallow and unsound in his deductions and 
analysis. I will take up, one after another, a 
few of his errors, and review them fairly, logi¬ 
cally and philosophically. 

‘ ‘ A tendency to democracy does not mean a 
tendency to parliamentary government, or even 
a tendency to greater liberty.” 

If Mr. Lesky means by “parliamentary gov¬ 
ernment,” such as Russia or China has, or as 
England had up to the time of the Reform act, 
he is right, but if he means such a “parliament¬ 
ary government” as we have had in this country 
up to that memorable time when England by her 
duplicity and treachery did so much to have a 
little international revenge, and for which she 
was forced to pay so dearly, he is very wrong, 
and he knows it. It is true that from a republic 
Rome became an Imperial despotism, but if the 
patricians had been just, that change would not 
have taken place. Have not empires crumbled 
into ruins for the same cause, and would it not 
be well for the British Empire and Mr. Lesky to 
think over this imperial lesson of history ? Mr. 
Lesky should not have made any allusion to rev¬ 
olutionary France. The history of the British 
monarchy is one of crime, blood, incest and 
shame,—of war and spoliation. In England the 


220 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


people submitted to every invasion, to every 
change. Why ? Because manhood under feu¬ 
dalism in the rural districts was debased. The 
greatest enemy that England has to face now is 
the twenty-six letters of the alphabet. It should 
not be forgotten that in any country where 
people are treated as slaves or savages the 
Eumenides have a cave. 

“ Equality is the idol of democracy.” 

Mr. Lesky is not fair nor honest in confound¬ 
ing the words, '‘equality" and equity. In 
America every man is free and equal before the 
law. This principle of common law was affirmed 
in England in defiance of the royal and feudal 
claim of exemption, by Lord Chief Justice 
Brackton in the 12th century. In America—I 
respect it—every man is free and equal before 
the law, and no farther. Here one man cannot 
claim by law what another man earns, but here 
as in England, one man may steal by law, what 
another man earns and justly owns. This is 
what ex-senator Ingalls, would call an Anglo- 
Saxon virtue. The “tendency of democracy ” 
is to do away with this so that all men may 
enjoy what is theirs according to the equity of 
God and nature. Mr. Lesky should have gone 
down below the surface and leave the titled 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


221 


anarchist with his feudal “entail,” and his bro¬ 
ther the less brutal anarchist of the stilletto order 
in possession of their filtered iniquity—“social 
equality.” In America the working people 
stand between the two, for the reign and rule of 
the triune soul of democracy—justice, peace and 
prosperity. 

“In the middle ages,” says Lesky, “the two 
most democratic institutions were the church 
and the guild. The first taught the essential 
spiritual equality of all mankind, and placed men 
taken from the servile class on a pedestal before 
which kings and nobles were compelled to bow, 
but it also formed the most tremendous instru¬ 
ment of spiritual tyranny the world has ever 
seen. The second organized industry on a self- 
governing and representative basis, but at the 
same time restricted and regulated it in all its 
details with the most stringent despotism.” 

Never was written by any author in so few 
words such a foul tissue of misrepresentation. 
In the Middle Ages, when feudalism was in its 
glory, and its will was law, education in Europe 
was exclusively in possession of the church and 
the only idea of order, that which she practiced, 
and enforced by her teachings. The people in 
the rural districts were slaves, and the only 


222 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


‘ ‘ parliamentary government ” was the capricious 
will of barbarous might. Macaulay and other 
historians say that as arbiter between nations 
and people, the church always decided justly, 
and never against the people. Is it to this 
magnificent truth of history Lesky refers, when 
he stigmatizes the church as ‘ ‘the most tremen¬ 
dous instrument of spiritual tyranny.” But she 
“placed men taken from the servile class on a 
pedestal before which kings and nobles were 
compelled to bow.” Her divine founder, Jesus 
Christ, had done the same, and therefore for 
the sake of consistency, Mr. Lesky should have 
told us that this same Jesus Christ was the 
Father and Founder of the true democracy, and 
he would have been right if he had said so. 

It would seem that Lesky regards labor as a 
natural system of slavery, necessary for the sup¬ 
port of an aristocratic “parliamentary govern¬ 
ment.” Hence it is that the idea of organizing 
industry on a “self-governing and representative 
basis,” he brands as a “most stringent despot¬ 
ism.” He must have known that in the cities of 
England, during the Middle Ages, labor had to 
organize against the aggressive incursions of the 
mailed feudal robber. He could not be igno¬ 
rant of the fact that England is more indebted 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


223 


to the guilds for municipal law and civilization 
than to all other causes combined. In our own 
times the guilds or trades unions have warded 
off more than once, in both England and the 
United States, fearful ruin or revolution. The 
enemies of labor unions or guilds in other coun¬ 
tries are the enemies of justice and the most 
effective propagandists of anarchy. The church 
of the Middle Ages—the church of to-day—and 
labor unions or guilds, are democratic, since they 
are for the good of humanity. It is a great pity 
that Mr. Lesky has not devoted a long chapter 
to our “ancient barons,” and exhaustively de¬ 
scribe their “parliamentary government” in the 
forests of northern Germany. He might have 
written of those Scandinavian sires—nobles all— 
who drank uisquebaugh out of skulls in the de¬ 
lightful Valhalla. To the noble descendants of 
those demigods labor would be most assuredly 
an abomination. 

Mr. Lesky discusses the war of secession in 
fine style. “The Southern States,” he says, 
‘ ‘ proclaimed the rights of nationalities, de¬ 
manded their independence,” &c. The South¬ 
ern States up to the war had all the rights of 
nationalities and all the independence that States 
could enjoy. The war sprung from the slavery 


224 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


issue, that festering curse fixed on the South by 
British greed, and afterwards fanned into flame 
by the intermeddling abolition fanatics of Exeter 
Hall, England. In what could the South be 
more independent, or what other national rights 
could she possess, had she come out of the war 
victorious ? The North, he informs us, suc¬ 
ceeded in crushing the revolt and establishing its 
authority over the vanquished South. What 
nonsense ! The South was subdued, not van¬ 
quished, and the authority established after the 
war was that of the Constitution—an instrument 
chiefly devised by Southern statesmen. 

Mr. Lesky has heretofore argued that Home 
Rule granted to Ireland would be fatal to the in¬ 
tegrity of the British Empire. Why did not 
this idea recur to him when considering the war 
of secession? 

Jealousy of the growing power of this country 
he admits was one cause of British sympathy 
for the South. The South ought to have known 
that British friendship is as fatal as a poisoned 
kiss. Another cause of British interference in 
the war, he says, is that “sporting spirit” which 
largely governs English interests in every foreign 
struggle. That “sporting spirit” did not in our 
great war distinguish itself by courage or manly 



WAYSIDE) THOUGHTS. 


225 


dash on the battlefield. Its loaded dice became 
useless and British friendship succumbed to fear. 
“Sporting spirit”! Sporting balderdash. Mr. 
Lesky is unfair and unfortunate in his allusions 
to the colonies during the war of the revolution. 
It is too late now to censure the noble men who 
fought through the struggle. The best men of 
the world have passed favorable judgment on the 
wisdom, patience and heroism of those immortal 
patriots. The true history of the American rev¬ 
olution lies in a name, and that name is Wash¬ 
ington. The Democracy of that period sprung 
from the soil consecrated to God and liberty. 
In form, spirit, life and character the government 
founded by the Revolutionary fathers is unique, 
truly, thoroughly and essentially American. 
Here there is Anglo-Saxon, no Anglo-Norman, no 
Celt, no Scandinavian, all are one, children of 
^he same soil and coheirs to that liberty that is 
based on. justice and humanity. 

Mr. Lesky is the only man of our time having 
literary distinction, who has written against the 
founders of our government. When a small boy 
I fired my pop-gun at a Golden Eagle, but did 
not hurt it badly. Mr. Lesky’s pop-gun will 
not succeed in causing Democracy to sigh, scream, 
or faint. 15 


226 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


THE WEST VIRGINIA STREAMS. 

I love the West Virginia hills, 

And the vales that lie between; 

I love to see the bounding rills 
In their beautiful clear sheen; 

But O far dearer are to me 

The haunts of my happy dreams 
That flow down from the mountains free. 
The bright West Virginia streams. 

I love the West Virginia hills 
In the sunshine or the storm, 

Their midnight voice my bosom thrills 
Their dawn glimmer has a charm— 
But all these fade before my eyes 
When on my memory gleams 
Flowing away 'neath cloudless skies 
The dear West Virginia streams. 

I love the hills, the grand old hills 
That shelter our homes so free, 

And gratitude my bosom fills 

When their wood-crowned crests I see; 
But when I’m weary, needing rest 
And the world all friendless seems 
My dearest refuge and the best 
Are the West Virginia streams. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


227 




I love the hills, the free old hills 
And the bending sky above, 
Where the dew of heaven distils 
The pure bliss and balm of love; 
But purer, fairer far to me 

In my waking thoughts or dreams 
Are those sweet bards of memory. 
The dear West Virginia streams 


REST. 

I sought in the valley for rest, 

But none did I ever there find: 

Far up on the high mountain crest— 
Sought for solace of heart and mind: 
I roamed on the strand of the sea, 

The foaming waves broke at my feet 
This sad refrain singing to me— 

‘‘Rest seek not till life is complete." 





228 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


OLD SONGS. 

Tis said that age improves the tone 
Of the simple violin, 

It must be so, for when alone 
I hear sweet strains to youth unknown 
Come from the old shell within. 

When restless passion takes its flight 
Childhood comes with age to play, 
When stars look fairer in the night 
And visions break upon the sight 
Of a well remembered day. 

The dead years held life’s baser part 
For the great refiner’s care, 

And sorrow sweeps with faultless art 
The strings of memory in the heart 
Singing her old home-songs there. 

Sing tender sorrow, sing to me 
Of the past a low refrain— 

Pierce my soul with thy melody, 

For O I long once more to be 
A free happy boy again. 

There are songs that can never die, 
Dear ones sing them now above; g 
Far beyond the bright starry sky 
I hear a well-known voice, and sigh 
For the minstrel of my love. 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS. 


229 


MOLINDA’S ISLE; 

In my shallop floating down 
To Molinda’s fairy isle, 

Fortune on me cannot frown 
In the light of Marys smile. 

Happy voyagers are we. 

Never ship had truer chart 
And our compass on life’s sea 
Is adjusted in each heart. 

Was there ever such a night! 

Stars above and stars below; 

Full of happy, pure delight 
Gaily with the tide we go. 

Love was skipper on the way, 

And he beached us with a smile 
Near a home within the bay 
Of Molinda’s lovely isle. 

Dreaming, dreaming of old times, 
Ah ! poor heart, you’ll never more 
Hear the pleasant Sunday chimes 
On that fair, beloved shore. 


230 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


LOST MY WAY. 

Father, I have lost my way— 

Lost all but my hope in thee, 
Farther do not let me stray, 

Look with pity, Lord, on me. 

Lead me—all is dark around— 
Dark outside and dark within, 

I have fallen to the ground, 
Crushed down by a load of sin. 

Didst thou not for sinners die— 
Didst thou not, Lord, die for me 
Do not coldly pass me by. 

Let me thy bright glory see. 

Give me strength to bear my cross 
I would fain thy footsteps trace, 
Suffer any wrong or loss 

To behold, O Christ, thy face. 

Keep me, I am weak and old, 
Mercy cannot plead in vain, 

Take me to thy ransomed fold, 

I would be thy child again. 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


231 


GLORY BE TO JESUS. 

Glory, glory be to Jesus, 

He is with us here to-day, 

Teaching us to do our duty 
Helping us to sing and pray, 

Glory, glory be to Jesus, 

Glory to his holy name. 

He is speaking—listen to him: 

“Heart and soul keep pure within; 

Be you always meek and humble, 
And avoid the ways of sin.” 

Glory, glory be to Jesus, 

Glory to his holy name. 

Praise and honor be to Jesus, 

From us he will not depart 

If we love here one another, 

If we give to him our heart. 

Glory, glory be to Jesus, 

Glory to his holy name. 

All for Jesus! is the watchword; 

All for Jesus! day and night, 

He will shield us, he will guide us 
To eternal rest and light. 

Glory, glory be to Jesus, 

Glory to his holy name. 


232 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


TO ROBIN. 

On a tree in front of W. F. Hollister’s house, 
in Webster county, West Virginia, a robin sang 
for weeks, two or three times a day. The fam¬ 
ily became attached to the sweet singer. He 
disappeared one day, never to return, and was 
sadly regretted. 

Dear, sweet Robin, the shady tree 
Is lonesome now and so are we; 

Its leaves are drooping all day long, 

Because they miss thy cheerful song. 

We miss thy early matin lay, 

We miss thy evening roundelay— 

The song good robins sang of old 
When love was more than fame or gold. 

O Robin, come back to our tree, 

Lonesome it is, and so are we, 

And bring to us the thrilling song 
That revived faith and made hope strong. 

Didst thou thy young brood take away 
To greenwood shade with them to play ? 

If so, dear Robin, come again, 

Our home will be thy free domain. 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


233 


Robin, thy songs were born of love, 
Such do the angels sing above, 

And to thee, dear bird, was given 
The sweet melody of heaven. 

Dear, sweet Robin, the shady tree 
Is lonesome now, and so are we ; 

Its leaves are drooping all day long 
Because they miss thy cheerful song. 


SING. 

Sing me a low, sweet song, 

Sad as a lover’s sigh, 

When all his dreams of bliss 
Within his bosom die. 

Sing in a minor key 

A weird song full of dole— 

An echo from the grave 
To soothe my dreamy soul. 

Let your deft touch be light 
As footfall of the dew, 

And let your voice and soul 
Be to my sorrow true ;— 

Sing me a low, sweet song— 
Low as an angel’s sigh 
When the heart’s fondest hopes 
Leave their fond shrine to die. 






234 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


THE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE. 

The day of our glory is dying, 

The hour of our shame is at hand, 

And traitors are selling or buying 

The manhood that once bless'd our land 

For conquest our masters now barter 
The covenant made by our sires. 

They trample on Liberty’s charter 
And honor ignobly expires. 

Despised are the splendid traditions 
Which came from the sages of old, 

And greed leads us on to transitions 
Untruthful, and sordid and cold. 

Forgotten today is the toiler; 

What is he at best but a clod? 

But Alecto follow the spoiler 
To work out the decrees of God. 

From our night a new day is breaking. 

Look out for the dawn in the east! 

The spirit that slumbered is waking 
To blot out the curse of the beast. 

The printer is now the premier, 

And thought flashes out from the brain 

With a message of truth short and clear, 
Give back to the tyrant his chain. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


235 


Up, up, sons of labor, be ready, 

Know that justice never can die; 

Be sober, be truthful and steady, 

The Lord knoweth all and is nigh. 


LOVE AND LABOR. 

In our little cottage here, 

Nothing do we hate or fear, 

For the Lord is always near, 

To true love and labor. 

You are still, Kate, fair as when 
I first met you in the glen, 

Pure your heart and good as then- 
True to love and labor. 

We are free from selfish greed, 
Heart and hand to those in need, 
Love to God and man, our creed 
Love and honest labor. 

Let the proud have their own way, 
We enjoy the present day, 

And from honor never stray— 
Loving truth and labor. 




236 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


Sing me, Kate, a good old song. 
Let it sweetly flow along, 

Angels bright will round us throng 
Blessing love and labor. 


TO UNA. 

I cannot forget you, 

For you are still to me 
The purest star that ever 
Shone on life’s troubled sea. 

How could I cease to love you ? 

Nothing can us two part; 

I am soul of your soul, 

You the heart of my heart. 

All day long you 're with me, 
And in my dreams at night, 
You take from me anguish, 
And bring to me delight. 

I will soon be with you. 

For that dear hour I long, 
When I’ll see your sweet smile 
And listen to your song. 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


237 


THE LEPER. 

Never under Syrian sky 
Looked to heaven a brighter eye, 

Nature never to form and face 
Gave such rare beauty and sweet grace. 
She was Ben Aden's only child 
A Jewish maiden undefiled. 

A student she of sacred lore, 

Well versed in prophecy, that bore 
On her brave race, whose captive—shame 
To her was dearer far than fame; 

She humbly kissed the chastening rod 
Because she loved Israel's God, 

Oft did her spirit see a light 
Quivering thro’ the starless night 
The sacred spark that relumes faith 
From the dark sepulcher of death, 

Through the surroundiag gloom andjwrong 
Hope sang to her its sweetest song. 

Nature was beautiful to her, 

It was the first true worshipper 

That felt the glow of primal ray 
Bright herald of earth's new-born day, 

She loved her old Judean hills 
And the sweet music of their rills: 

The flowers springing from the sod 
Spoke to her gentle soul of God 


238 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


And in the clear, blue sky above 
She saw His face and felt his love. 

One eve she walked to a place where 
She oft communed with God in prayer, 
Piteously to him she cried: 

“When wilt thou, Lord, with us abide ? 
Wilt thou accept a sacrifice ? 

I offer self—may that suffice. 

The servile yoke I’d freely take 
For beloved Israels sake. 

Mercy pleads for us at thy throne 
And love claims mankind as her own. 
Would I could great Messiah see ! 

He’ll come in truth's simplicity 
To heal our people’s bleeding heart 
And faith and hope and love impart. 

O heart of mine! be still a while, 

Ere long upon us he will smile.” 

A burning flash shot thro’ each limb. 

That seared her soul, her eyes made dim. 
So fell to earth. Again she cried: 

“God of our race ! with me abide.” 

The red tide in her veins was cold, 

Sudden the change !—she had grown old, 
Her dark hair on her bosom lay 
Matted and coarse and O so gray. 

White spots appeared on arms and breast, 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


239 


Appalling signs of the dread pest. 

Fearful to name, awful to see, 

The woeful, loathsome leprosy. 

No home had she, no refuge now, 

Ashes of dead love on her brow, 

The agony of thought was keen— 

Unclean was she—unclean, unclean. 

She turned in sorrow from her kind, 

With withered heart and tortured mind. 

And in a cave by Gallilee 

Found a dark home where none might see 

Her dire afflection; there she lay 

Many a dreary night and day. 

One day as near the cave she stood 
She felt the long-cold dormant blood 
Stir in her veins, like rills that start 
Into the light from nature’s heart. 

She asked herself: What can it be? 

Is life revived by death in me ? 

Can He who giveth life or death 
Forget his patient child of faith ? 

Startled she heard a crowd proclaim 
Loudly Messiah’s Holy name. 

And when she knew that she was seen: 
“Unclean,” she cried, “unclean, unclean.” 
“Daughter,” the master said, ’’draw near, 
Thou’st prayed to see me, here am I. 




240 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


I walked with thee the mountain side 
And in you cave to thee was nigh. 

Faith, simple faith, hath made thee whole; 
Thy youth and beauty I restore; 

Thy sacrifice hath won my love, 

And I will love thee evermore. 

Thy father and thy mother wait 
To see thee; bring them soon to me, 

Tell them I come with love and truth 
To set the captive nations free. 

I come to heal the broken heart, 

To open wide sweet mercy's door, 

To break the fetters of the slave 
And consecrate to God the poor. 

Thou’lt leave the past behind thee now, 
Bravely, nobly, thou hast striven, 

Patient suffering finds the way 
Leading to the joys of heaven. 

Peace be with thee !—go now thy way 
But do not tarry long from me; 

Come with the other women soon 
And follow me to Calvary. 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


241 


THE BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 

Do not be down-hearted, 

This world was made for smiles, 
Out on the wide ocean 

Are fair, green sunny isles, 

And in the forest temples 
Are leaf-arched holy aisles. 

Do not look so solemn, 

Lift up those downcast eyes, 
Cloudlets light are playing 
Like children in the skies, 

And the sun now setting 
Will in the morning rise. 

Do not be so gloomy, 

God is all love and light, 

Every thing but evil 
Is lovely in His sight. 

Beautiful is the world 

To those who do whats right. 

Do not fret or grumble, 

But like the small birds sings, 
And let hope exultant 
Fly up on sunlit wing ; 

It will from high heaven 
Rich blessings to you bring. 


242 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


I AM STILL A CHILD OF THINE. 

Father, I come to thee again, 

A sinful suppliant for aid; 

I cannot see truths holy light. 

So far away from it I’ve strayed. 

Whom would I go to, Lord, but thee, 
Fountain of truth and love divine ; 

Bestow on me thy tender grace, 

For I am still a child of thine. 

Enable me to conquer self, 

O give me strength from sin to flee 

Of all defilements cleanse my heart 
And fill it with sweet charity. 

The enemy that leads me on 

Thro’ rayless gloom is in my breast, 

The pride that robs my soul of light 
And drags it down to dire unrest. 

O hear me for the dear Christ’s sake, 
Lead forth my soul to love divine ; 

Bless and forgive me, Father dear, 

For I am still a child of thine. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


243 


DREAMLAND. 

You are sad, love, and so am I— 

Sad and so far apart ; 

But we can hear each other’s sigh, 

From lonely heart to heart. 

My soul went out last night in dreams 
To that sweet, quiet spot, 

Where flows the brightest of all streams 
Into the Guyandotte. 

We sat down by the little spring, 

Where oft we sat before, 

And happy thoughts to us did bring 
Gems of the rarest lore. 

I heard you sing the song of dole 
You often sang for me, 

And now within my restless soul 
It calms my reverie. 

“True love can never, never die"— 

This was the sweet refrain 

You sang for me in song or sigh, 

You’ll sing for me again. 

Oft do I go in midnight dreams 
To that sweet, quiet spot, 

Where flows the brightest of all streams 
Into the Guyandotte. 



* 


244 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 

WORK OR RUST. 

We must work or we must rust: 

In base indolence and ease 
Is the breeding pen of lust 
Or the hot bed of disease, 

We have all ideals true 
In the ever restless brain, 

And we must keep these in view 
Let them lead to bliss or pain. 

Work is worship when the heart 
Has sweet home-love in its core, 
Every soul has its own chart 
To go by from shore to shore. 

Not in workship nor in field 
Is the noblest labor done; 

Not where mangled victims yield 
Is the greatest battle won. 

Not in eloquence or art 

Does the mind take highest flight, 
But where love finds out a heart 
Dying, hopeless without light, 
Where the cup of water cold 
To fevered lips is given, 

Or the soul strayed from Gods fold 
Is brought back home to heaven 


WAYSIDE) THOUGHTS. 


245 


To the outcast kindly speak, 

By the feeble hand him take. 
These lost ones ’tis ours to seek 
For the loving Master’s sake. 
We must work while it is day. 

Conscience keeps a record true, 
Hearing ev’ry word we say, 
Seeing ev’ry thing we do. 


SIGH AND PRAY FOR ME. 

When the day is dying 
On the twilight sea, 

And low winds are sighing 
Think, dear love, of me. 

When above the mountain 
The home star you see, 
Unseal mem’ry’s fountain 
And then dream of me. 

When the world is sleeping 
I’ll be close to thee, 

When the heart craves weeping 
Weep and pray for me, 



246 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


Life is onward flowing, 
Flowing to a sea, 

And where I am going 
Thou wilt come to me. 


HALLOWED BE THY NAME. 

Hallowed be thy name ! 

O God for evermore, 
Hallowed be thy name ! 

From endless shore to shore. 

Hallowed be thy name ! 

Source of all love and light. 
Hallowed be thy name ! 

At morning, noon and night. 

Hallowed be thy name ! 

Proclaim both earth and sea. 
Hallowed be thy name ! 

There is no God but Thee. 

Hollowed be thy name ! 

To Thee our hearts we raise. 
Nature with love aflame. 

Unite with us in praise. 



WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


247 


ADIEU ! 

Adieu, dear friends, a fond adieu! 

Kind were you all to me, and true; 

A voice says in my hearts retreat: 

“You never more on earth will meet." 

I do not know where I may die. 

Above me is the clear blue sky* 

The earth may claim this dust of mine, 
The soul will find its home divine. 

Life’s tide is ebbing fast away 
And faith beholds a fairer day 
Breaking on a far-off shore 

Where pain or parting is no more. 

Until this heart sinks down to rest 
I’ll hold you close to mem’ry’s breast, 
And in the world of bliss above, 

We’ll live united in God’s love. 

Adieu, dear friends, a fond adieu! 

So good, so kind to me and true, 

May God be with us to life’s end 
He is our best and truest friend. 


248 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


WORK TO DO. 

In this restless world of ours, 

With its fretful cares and strife, 

There are pathways strewn with flowers 
Leading to a higher life. 

Mind should wear no galling chain 
Forged by subtle, soulless creed, 

Man can honor here attain 

But by pure clean thought and deed. 

Is there for the soul no rest 

Under prides malignant sway ? 

Is hope but a dream at best 
And light fled from love away? 
Brothers, sisters, pause awhile, 

There is work for all to do, 

We must first God reconcile 
To our hearts, if we be true. 

We must lift the fallen up, 

Dry the weeping widow’s tears, 

And remove the bitter cup 

Drank by hopeless woe for years, 

Let us hush the orphan’s cries 
For the loving Master’s sake, 

His love close to good deeds lies 
And will not the poor forsake. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


249 


See the toiler without hope, 

Crushed down by law’s ruthless rule! 
We can give him wider scope 

In discipline’s rigid school. 

Willing heart and patient thought, 
Trust in God and peace within 
By these noblest deeds are wrought 

Thus will labor justice win. 

Labor for the good and true, 

Love for love’s own blessed sake 
Faithful be in all we do, 

Thus can we our fetters break. 

Let not envy, lust or pride 

Find within our hearts a place, 

And God will with us abide 
Till we see him face to face. 


THE PAST. 

I cannot forget the past, 

It is not dead to me, 

As long as memory guards 
That fair isle of its sea; 

My soul cannot shut its eyes 
To the old holy hills, 

Or its ears to the sweet songs 
Of childhood’s streams and rills. 



250 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


How can I forget the past, 

The glory of my youth? 

Shall I bury boyhood where 
Never is love or truth? 

The church and the village green, 
Each spot in childhood trod 
Bear the impress of my soul 
The footprints of my God. 

No home like the dear old home 
Beneath the blue above, 

No voice like a mother’s voice 
No love like her sweet love; 

No flowers like those that grow 
Among the bright home streams, 
No birds like the birds that sing 
In my sad twilight dreams. 


I seek for lost gems once mine, 
Seek, but never can find 
Love for the poor weary heart, 
Light for the groping mind : 

I will go back to the past, 

Tis’ all the world to me, 

I will reach it by and by 

When death shall set me free. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS. 


251 


THE OLD LOG CABIN. 

O tear not the old log cabin down, 

Altho' its walls are now black and brown, 

Once 'twas the coziest place on earth, 

The dear home of happy love and mirth, 

Its board was free to stranger and poor 
And the latchstring hung outside the door. 

Why should rude ambition's hateful frown 
Tumble this relic of freedom down ? 

A man ruled here in true manhood’s might, 

A will to labor, his divine right, 

His heart a well-tide of truth and love 
Glad homage paid to the Lord above. 

In this old cabin his wife was queen, 

Faultless her form and noble her mien, 

No cold, courtly manners schooled in art 
Ever chilled the fountain of her heart, 

Her life flowed down like a singing stream 
Diffusing joy in its happy dream. 

The desolate hearthstone now recalls 
Nights when the light glowed upon the walls 
When the song went round and tales were told 
As in happy minstrel times of old. 

Peace to their souls, but these falling tears 
Are all I have for our pioneers. 


252 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


The good old roof is no longer seen, 

The chinks are open the logs between, 

The chimney has fallen to the ground 
And latchstring or door cannot be found. 

The puncheon floor has rotted away 
Where hospitality once held sway. 

Here is a part of the spinning wheel. 

On you mound I see the broken reel, 

But the loom is gone and web or chain 
She will not weave on this earth again. 

For mem'rys sake let the cabin stand, 

Once the cheerful home of heart and hand. 

A few friendly ferns now sadly wave 
Over the lonely family grave. 

No fond memorial marks the spot, 

Of the lowly poor this is the lot, 

But the angels who watch our actions here 
Keep record true of the pioneer. 

O tear not the old log cabin down, 

What tho’ its walls are now black and brown 
Once ’twas the coziest place on earth 
The dear, happy home of love and mirth, 

Its board was free to stranger and poor 
And the latchstring hung outside the door. 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS 


253 


LOVE ONE ANOTHER. 

“Love one another as I have loved you. ’' 

So said the Master in days gone by. 

O let us always to duty be true 

Doing what Jesus would have us to do. 

Love as he loved, and on love rely 

“Love one another” O never before. 

Was such commandment to us given, 

He loved us and our infirmities bore, 

Loved us, and died for us: what could he more ? 

Loved us here and loves us in heaven. 

“Love one another,” on Calvary see 
All that true love for us sacrificed, 

Then let us loyal and faithful ever be, 

Loving with his sweet tender sympathy 

Loving as loved our dear Master, Christ. 

* 

“Love one another as I have loved you,” 
Cleanse our hearts, Lord, with thy holy grace 

That we may here to each other be true, 
Unselfish and gentle in all we do 

And find in thy love a resting place. 


254 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


HE IS NOT HERE. 

“He is not here," the sepulcher 
No longer is his prison, 

He is not here in death’s embrace, 

Our Lord, our Christ has risen. 

No trace of blood can here be found, 

No slime to his cerements cling, 

He rose up from the trance of death 
The world’s true anointed king 

Seek him not at the sepulcher 
Nor by wailing Galilee, 

He is not at lone Nazareth 
Nor at Sad Gethsemane; 

But where the salve of sin exists, 

Or the suffering poor may be, 

There with great mercy, truth and love 
The pitying Christ you’ll see. 

He knocks at every heart to find 
An abiding place within, 

To break the fetters of the soul 
And cleanse it of deadly sin: 

Where ruthless, cold pride tries to crush 
The honest toiler to despair, 

And where the outcast cries for aid 
The dear loving Christ is there. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


254 


KEEP YOUR LANTERN TRIMMED. 

Keep your lantern trimmed tonight, 

Give the mad waves fullest light, 

For a dreadful storm is nigh. 

See ! how angry looks the sky. 

I see trouble on your brow, 

Mary, keep a brave heart now, 

If some craft is forced this way 
We must work as well as pray. 

Dark the night and wild the sea— 
Daughter, think of Galilee ! 

Faith in Him will help the weak, 

Duty wins when for his sake. 

You remember long ago, 

’Twas a night of death and woe, 

Wild the storm on land and sea 
When your mother strove with me. 

We had saved two men that night; 

O how brave she was and bright ! 

“ Christ was at the helm,'’ she said, 

And she could not be afraid. 

Onward came the storm amain, 

Human strength would now be vain ; 

And a ship, like ocean-ghost, 

Was dashed lifeless on the coast. 


# 


255 


WAYSIDK THOUGHTS 

“Save us, Jesus, in this hour/' 

Many cried, “Thou hast the power.” 
And a star shone out above, 

Omen of his watchful love. 

Keep your lantern trimmed at night, 
Faith will help you with its light, 

To escape both reef and wave— 

Christ be with us, he can save. 


LEAD ME. 

Divine shepherd, lead me to 

Pastures green and living springs, 
Where the sky is always blue 
And true love for ever sings. 

Lead me to the foothills where 
Angel minstrels love to stray, 

And the stars bow down in prayer 
O’er the quiet, sleeping day. 

Lead me to the fountain bright 
From which love and mercy flow 
Where the weary soul finds light 
And forgets for aye its woe. 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


256 


Lead to where the slave is free, 
Where the poor, so long opprest, 
Find a refuge sure with thee 
In the land of peace and rest. 

To thy victor cross I’d go 

With the dead dreams of my years 
There to bury shame and woe, 

End my sorrow and my tears. 

Jesus, shepherd, lead me to 

Pastures green and living springs, 
Where the sky is always blue 
And true love so sweetly sings. 


TO KATE 

I had hoped when I am dying 

That you’d come back, love, to me, 
And I’d hear the low soul-whisper 
And your thoughtful sweet face see; 
O’er me comes a sad, strange feeling, 
Cold my heart and tired my brain, 

I am longing for your coming, 

But you’ll never come again. 



257 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


The world looks dark and dreary, 

Not a friend beside me now, 

No soft tresses sweep my pillow, 

No dear hand to press my brow; 

All my fond illusions perish, 

All but love from me depart, 

It has buried your fair image 
In the ruins of my heart. 

You are gone, and I am going; 

Will you meet me on the way? 

I am going from the darkness 
To the beautiful, bright day; 

Dust and ashes lie around me, 

Wealth and fame to me are dross, 
I behold a glimpse of heaven, 

And I see you near the cross. 

I am dying—kiss me, dearest, 

Lay your hand upon my brow, 
The poor heart is still for ever— 
Soul of mine, be happy now. 

List! I hear the streams of childhood 
And I see the old hills rise— 

This fair heaven of my dreaming 
Is where spread my native skies. 




WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


258 


THE GRAVE. 

We laid down the casket here 
And covered it with the sod, 

But the gem has upward flashed 
To the blessed home of God. 

We buried him flesh and bone, 

Cold blood and the worm-out brain, 
But truth and sweet love are where 
Never known is death or pain. 

The thought that glowed in his eye 
Or flashed in his fervid speech, 

Has fled from the soulless shrine, 

His ideal true to reach. 

The way he has gone we’ll go, 

We tread the rough path he trod, 
The baser we leave to earth, 

The nobler we’ll take to God. 


And while we may linger here 
Let us look to God above, 
The source of eternal truth, 
The soul of eternal love. 


259 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


THE SABBATH BELL. 

Heaven’s peace on the valley lies, 

Not a speck in the bright blue skies, 

Not a discord on nature’s breast, 

To mar the sacred day of rest. 

The mountains bow their heads in prayer, 
The seas thy glory, Lord, declare, 

And little birds in forest dell 

Greet with sweet songs the Sabbath Bell. 

The flowers lift their petals bright, 

Begemmed with-dew-drops of the night, 
And in their sunlit beauty tell 

Thy praise when tolls the Sabbath Bell. 

I listen to a grand refrain, 

I try to sing, but, in vain, 

For memory within her cell 

Weeps listening to a Sabbath Bell. 

A Sabbath bell—a holy chime 
In the far off dear olden time 
When angels walked the earth with me 
And with me dreamed beside the sea. 

O blessed Lord ! O love divine ! 

Revive this joyless soul of mine 
And grant that I for aye my dwell 

Where dear friends ring thy Sabbath Bell. 



WAYSIDK THOUGHTS 


260 


THERE IS NO DEATH. 

Within this bright enamelled shell 
My Mary lived some twenty years. 

Now love itself can hardly tell 

That she is dead, but by its tears. 

The curtains of her eyes are closed, 

Her lips no longer are apart, 

Never could life be so composed 
Nor pulseless her true, living heart. 

Mary, I listen for thy sigh, 

I long to hear the words unsaid, 

I speak, but there is no reply. 

And now I know that thou art dead. 

Can the rare beauty that she wore 

End thus in death ? Can love and truth 

Be lost to me for evermore—- 
And lost the sweet grace of her youth ? 

It cannot be, I see her now, 

Upon my cheek I feel her breath. 

Her cold lips press my throbbing brow, 

She whispers me: “There is no death." 

There is no death, O message sweet 
From the bright spirit-land above, 

And still we live, and we shall meet 
As first we met in truthful love. 



261 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


AT MY COTTAGE WINDOW. 

DEDICATED TO MRS. MATILDA S. HOLLISTER. 

At my cottage window here, 

This sweet holy Sabbath day, 

Listening to the singing birds 

In the wildwoods, blithe and gay, 
Joyfully my soul goes out 

To green glade and swelling hill, 

And sweet thoughts like angels bright, 

My poor heart with rapture fill. 

Never was a clearer morn, 

Nowhere such a lovely scene, 

Cloudless the blue sky above, 

Nature in her richest sheen, 

There is music in the air, 

Voices heard of old I hear, 

And my soul exultant cries: 

Glory ! glory ! He is here. 

Hours at my cottage window 
Fleeting moments are to me 
Shadows of bright thoughts flying 
Across the souls tranquil sea. 

Silence, sweet child of heaven, 

Is praying in her bowers 
While hummingbirds are kissing 
The lips of blushing flowers. 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


262 


Never was a milder eve, 

Never calmer hours than this, 

Green earth and blue sky blending 
In an ectasy of bliss. 

The vesper star has risen 
In wondrous beauty bright, 

Singing this strain of glory: 

“In heaven there is no night.” 

God bless the green sunny glades. 

May he bless the grand old hills, 
Bless the singing, bright home streams 
And the ever joyous rills. 

Freedom has no fairer home, 

Religion no purer shrine 
Than our noble mountain State 
And this happy home of mine. 


REST. 

There is an allotted time of rest for all things 
wisely decreed by God. Youth requires rest 
from its capricious enjoyments, and old age 
sighs as it totters down the descent of life for 
rest—sweet rest. The mind when weary calls 



263 


WAYSIDE THOUGHTS 


to its bosom the spirit of vision, and gently rests. 

I am old and claim the privilege of age, to 
dream strange dreams of fields and streams far 
away in the valley of my youth. The reality of 
the past has faded into a beautiful fantasy, but 
the ideals of boyhood will be yet realized where 
truth and love can know no change. And I—I 
too crave rest. 

If I have written in these Wayside Thoughts 
anything that seems deserving of censure, I 
have not done so willfully; and as long as I please 
my own judgment, I am satisfied. These 
thoughts are mine and the sneer of criticism can¬ 
not lessen them in my regard. 

Other thoughts will occupy my mind in the 
future. I am nearing the dividing line between 
time and eternity. I love to linger in the ceme¬ 
tery of buried dreams and hopes, waiting for 
their resurrection, and while waiting I may be 
called from the wayside to find them in the land 
of eternal peace and rest. 

Pat Kenny. 







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